


Say my name

by closetedlarrie, HyFrLarry1224



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Harry, Angry Louis, Angst, Blow Jobs, But a lot of Sex, Dark Harry, Dom/sub Undertones, Drama, Dubious Consent, Fights, ForcedSexualIntercourse, Human Harry, Hurt Louis, Jealousy, Lots of Sex, M/M, MalexMale, Mention Of Harm, Mpreg, Other, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Rape, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, Unhinged Louis, explicit scenes, harry is an asshole, hybrid kitten louis, slooow burn, unhinged harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:19:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetedlarrie/pseuds/closetedlarrie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyFrLarry1224/pseuds/HyFrLarry1224
Summary: Kitten hybrids excelled at everything. They were a genetically advanced breed. They were also known to be slightly evil, a little manipulative and generally very destructive. Louis Tomlinson prided himself on being all of those things. As unpleasant as his company could be, he had a talent for wrapping people around his little finger- making anyone bend over backwards to please him within 10 minutes of knowing him.Until Harry Styles.When the two are forced to spend two weeks under the same roof, moments are shared, and sex ensues. And a whirlwind of drama to follow..You took my glasses off,Wiped away the blur of fantasy,Then put them back on;Brandishing a clearer view thanthe pretty you I'd beenaccustomed to.But a you, that I'm gratefulto see.Inspired by 'Make a Run, Cause Some Rebellion', by whoknows.First six paragraphs are a direct outtake from the aforementioned story.





	1. If You Don't Fuck Me Now, You're Next

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hello, my lovelies! How have ya'll been this long break I've taken from this account? I know, I know, i'm HORRIBLE at keeping up with a story when I don't have a co-writer riding my a*s, so I am happy to announce someone else has stepped forward and taken on the responsibility. ;)... Welcome Em! I pity her, but admire her guts for taking on someone as hopeless as me. Haha. Anywhoodle, ya'll, check out her AMAZING writing skills. As always, I am Harry and she plays the beautifully sassy Louis. Let us know your thoughts on what we have so far? We have SO much planned for this story and would love to hear some criticism, or just friendly suggestions? 
> 
> Right, well, i'll let you continue on with reading this smut filled thing. Children, avert your eyes. 
> 
> Also, I should add that the beginning of this chapter started out as an RP. We took the prompt and decided to add it into out story. Neither one of us wrote the prompt, nor do we know who the original owner is. They deserve all credit for the first few paragraphs written.
> 
> Update: the first six paragraphs are taken from another story on here, verbatim. It's called '[Make a Run, Cause Some Rebellion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775978)' by [whoknows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows).  
> -Em

As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and a little bit manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees, but especially on being uninterested in what other people tell him to do. He’s still human goddammit, despite his pointy ears and penchant for curling up in the sun and taking naps. He’s going about his daily business, knocking things over where he sees fit and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. As exasperated as it makes Liam he’s used to it by now, having shared a flat with Louis for almost three years now, and if Louis whines enough he’ll even clean up after him. It’s a great life, really.

  
With the exception of Liam’s stupid broad shouldered entirely too big mate, the one who always comes over to watch sports with him. Louis hates that guy. His hair is always greasy and he brings weird hipster beer with him when he comes that tastes like shit. And he won’t even let Louis have any of it, either. The only reason Louis even knows what it tastes like is because one time he stole a bottle from the fridge and fled to his room before Harry could catch him. It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Louis is nineteen years old, well over the legal drinking age. He doesn’t need to be treated like a child by some over-grown toddler. So what if the beer hadn’t been his in the first place. Everyone knows that it’s only polite to provide for everyone when bringing drinks over to someone else’s house.

The stupid hipster is here now, sitting with his feet propped up on Louis’ coffee table, probably getting it all scuffed and dirty. Louis scowls in his direction from the kitchen, where he is absolutely not hiding, thank you very much, and inches his fingers out to snag Harry’s bag from where it’s sitting on the countertop, pulling it slowly towards him. It slides along silently. Louis keeps one eye on the living room, making sure neither Harry or Liam are going to turn around and see him, and then, once the bag is close enough, scoops it up and ducks down behind the counter, settling his bum on the cold tile. He’s hidden from view and the others are busy watching American football - as if that’s even a real sport - so now is the perfect time to go through Harry’s things.

By which he means mess with Harry’s things.

The inside of Harry’s messenger bag is pretty boring - there’s a couple textbooks, a notebook, some pens, a water bottle. A calculator, which Louis wrinkles his nose at, because maths, and his phone.

Ooh. His phone. Who’s stupid enough to leave their phone in their bag with Louis around, honestly. It’s like he’s asking for Louis to do evil things to it. Louis is in the middle of changing all the contacts in Harry’s phone to a synonym of DICK, having already changed his background photo and hidden all of his music, when he’s gripped by the back of his neck and hauled to his feet. He yelps, things sliding off his lap and onto the floor and nearly loses his grip on the phone.

Intently watching the game, Harry shoved Liam's irritating voice out of his head as the older man continued to pester him, begging for a beer that wasn't luke warm and just the nasty foam that clung to the bottom of the bottle. Apparently it was Harry's turn to play bitch and fetch, so when the commercials finally began to play, he shot Liam a glare and stood. "Your last name perfectly fits you, asshole." Harry grumbled as he kneed past the man and walked into the kitchen, not passing up the opportunity to grab a chunk of broccoli off the platter Liam had set up behind the couch, and throw it at the man which earned him a high pitched whine followed by unintelligible grumbling— he lived to annoy him.

Sniggering as he ducked the returning item of choice thrown at him, Harry ran into the kitchen. Occupied with brushing the few clumps of the exploded broccoli from his hair, he almost stepped on the little kitten hiding on the floor, and was about to apologize with his foot slowly retreating to find solid ground that wasn't the thigh of a stranger, when he noticed his messenger bag and phone clutched in the paws of Liam's ridiculously annoying friend, who's name he couldn't exactly remember. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Harry growled, fingers squeezing the back of the kitten's neck as he hauled him to his feet and kept him in place.

Louis offered no explanation, choosing instead to grace the man with a self-satisfied smirk. He was feeling very proud of himself, and regretted nothing. That soon turned into a grimace when Harry's hold on the back of his neck tightened, pulling a small squeak from the boy. Harry was so annoying. He was literally the only person Louis hadn't managed to wrap around his little finger. So it really wasn't his fault that they often found themselves in predicaments like this. And truly that was exactly what this was. How could Louis  _not_ mess with Harry when he walked around just asking for it. Cocky smirk, carrying himself around like he fucking  _owned_  the place. Entitled fucking prick. Didn't help one bit that he was unbelievably attractive when he did. So yes,  _predicament_.  
  


"I just made a few adjustments. Might be helpful actually," he muttered. He figured thrashing around wouldn't get him out of Harry's hold so he took in a deep breath and with a menacing gleam in his eyes set on Harry, he shouted "Liammm!" As soon as the other male entered the room, Louis' expression changed drastically, turning as pitiful as he could possibly muster. "He's hurting me," he cried, clawing at Harry's ridiculously large paws. Uncivilized bear. Liam always took his side, so Louis had no doubt that he would come to his rescue yet again.

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes to find Liam, expecting to see his best mate sharing the same look of distaste for the kitten he held, but instead he got a scowl that quickly changed into a scolding look as Liam jabbed a finger at Louis before pointing towards the ground, the unspoken demand not going over Harry's head. "You're ridiculous, Liam. He’s always fucking things up like this, and you always take his side without even liste— for fuck sakes, stop!" Harry dropped the struggling cat who'd been clawing him like a fucking psycho druggy feigning for a fix. Cupping a hand over the long, deep scratches that began at his wrist and drug down to just above his knuckles, Harry felt as the blood began to seep in between the cracks of his fingers and once again fixed his eyes on Louis. "You're fucking insane— and lucky, because if I didn't respect Liam (or his tv) so much I'd have thrown you out the fucking window already." Then, turning to Liam, he abandoned pressing against his wounds and gestured to his things. "This always happens, Payne."

Liam approached them quickly, petting Louis' hair and comforting him. The boy wrapped himself around Liam, clinging to him and looking very much like a bristled and angry hedgehog. Except for the smug expression he shot Harry when Liam wasn't looking. His smile widened when he knew Harry had caught it. He liked Liam. Good human being. Naive, just how he liked them. He could always count on Liam to get him out of trouble.

  
"He's just a kitten. He doesn't mean it," Liam cooed, running his hand through Louis' hair, soothing where Harry had tugged.

  
"I didn't mean it," Louis backed, looking up at Harry, pouting. "S' fine, kitten," Liam assured, scratching behind Louis' ear and smiling at him adoringly.

Harry stared at the two, giving an incredulous scoff at what exactly was going on. Liam was a man who usually responded well to reason and was the clear headed friend among them, but when he was around Louis he became cloudy and always backed the boy, even if the grinning feline was to murder someone and still have their blood staining them. If Harry hadn't known that Liam was, in fact, straight, he would assume the older man was head over heels in love with the kitten, and he would relentlessly tease him, but upon getting to know how the two worked together, he learned louis was simply playing into that helpless kitten persona and Liam was always a sucker for the victims, for the weak people, for the ones who couldn't defend themselves— Harry was the  _complete_  opposite. He thrived around the assholes, the ones who picked fights because they  _knew_  they'd win.

"Whatever. Continue to fondle him like some fucking perv, Li. I'm leaving." Harry growled as he gathered his things, flipping Louis off with a blood stained finger when he saw his phone background was of a very, very tiny dick. It wasn't as if the tall male had anything against kittens, either. He just really despised Louis and his childish tendencies- had since the beginning. He was a grown kitten, yet still acted like a teenager would, their bodies run rampant with hormones as they learned about their heats. Ninety percent of them were out of control, and it truly wasn't their fault. Then again, Louis wasn't really to blame either. Liam coddled him  _far_  too much; treated him like a proper pet. "Call me when you're done giving into your beastiality kink, Liam. Maybe I'll forgive you, and not kick your arse."

Louis flinched at Harry's last comment. He didn't like when people derided him about his feline, or rather, animal characteristics. Or simply referred to him as an animal. He'd grown up around a lot of insults tailored to ridicule that part of him. He didn't however dwell on it for longer than a moment, deciding he'd get Harry back for it with his next schemes.  
  
"Haz, don't be like that," Liam groaned, following after him. "Louis will apologize," he said, looking at the hybrid boy pointedly. Louis' jaw dropped at that, and he gave Liam a 'what the fuck' look. His tail wagged to the side in an aggressive motion. Liam kept his gaze pointed and stern. "Especially considering... uh-" Liam began, looking at them both, one after the other sheepishly.   
  
"I was wondering if Louis could stay with you. For a week, possibly two," he rushed out in a quick breath. Louis' head snapped towards Liam, looking at the man incredulously. "What the hell, Li?!" He yelled, ears standing up and twisting backwards.  
"I promised my mum I would visit and lend a hand with the garden for winter."  
  
"All the other guys are out of town and I really can't cancel because I don't want her tiring herself out too much. She's still recovering," he explained, shooting Harry a desperate look of plea. In this scenario, Louis would be on Harry's playground. Harry's rules. He was beginning to hyperventilate at the thought, turning his attention back to Harry with a look of mortification.   
  
"No! I don't want that!" He snapped angrily. He really didn't like that idea one bit, his tail now fully puffed up and swaying from side to side rapidly.

  
"I think this is actually a great opportunity. You're both important to me and you'll be seeing a lot of each other when my wedding comes around. So maybe it's time we buried the hatchet, hm?" He suggested enthusiastically.  
  
"This could be a great bonding experience. And maybe by the end of this, you can at least learn to coexist without trying to rip each other's throats out? You have to help me out here," he finished with a groan.

Harry blanched at Liam's little speech, and for the first time since meeting the ridiculous pet he's kept around, Harry agreed with him wholeheartedly. This would end in disaster, and Louis would wind up dead or out on the street before the first night even passed. When Liam subtly threw in the sympathy card by bringing up his mother's illness, Harry shot him a glare. "That's not fair, Liam. You know as well as I do, that neither of us will survive a week alone in my house. Hell, we can't even get along for five minutes!" He snapped, waving an angry hand at Louis before he, without shame, showed Liam the scabbing scratches on his hand, the stinging now knocked down to a dull throb. He knew it would do nothing, because frankly, Liam was hard headed. He would stop at  _nothing_  to get his way, especially if he believed the outcome would be Harry and Louis buddying up.  
  
"Bringing your mother's illness into this is low, Li, really low," and the eldest man knew it. That's why he even attempted to use his mother's sickness, because he knew the pity both Harry and Louis would take on him. They would reluctantly agree, and if Liam had any hope at all, it was that when he returned home at the end of the week, both males would be friends or at least getting along semi-well. It was ridiculous the two most important people in his life, next to his fiance, weren't getting along and refused to even try.

"It's a no from me," Louis said with a sense of certainty, walking out of the room and tipping a lampshade off a decorative table for good measure. Serves Liam right for even considering something so outrageous. "Not with  _him_. I'll stay with fucking Grimshaw before I agree to that," he muttered angrily loud enough to ensure they heard him as he made his way to his room but then took a u-turn on a whim to go back and plead his case further. "Liam why can't I stay here?" He suggested, eyes sparkling and mouth turning down in a pleading pout. He turned to gauge Harry's face to make sure the man wasn't considering giving in. "He's a domineering prick. I refuse to be anywhere near him without you around."

  
"Plus, I can handle myself here," he assured quickly.  
Liam did not trust Louis to keep the house intact and not have set it on fire by the time he's back.

"And you're any better? You're a manipulative child who can't take anything seriously," Harry snapped, not taking his eyes off Louis as he stomped forward and was suddenly crowding his space, towering over him with heated eyes locked on the kitten, using his height as intimidation because if there's one thing he's learned the kitten hates-- it's his height.. "Go with Grimshaw, let him take care of you. A manipulating narcissist with an emotionless sociopath is the  _perfect_  fucking pairing." Harry absolutely hated Nick Grimshaw, almost as much as he did Louis although the glaring  _cat_ would always top him.   
  
Swiping a hand down his face to try and calm himself, Harry turned away from Louis and looked at Liam, hope softening his orbs even as his words were spoke with a certain hardness, leaving no room for this discussion to progress. "He is not staying with me, regardless on what fucking sympathy card you use." His mum could be dying and Harry would still say no. "Find someone else to take the stray. I'm leaving." Grabbing his bag, Harry stomped out of the kitchen and was just reaching the front door when Liam called his name, and despite knowing there was nothing the man could say that would change his mind, Harry still stopped and let his head fall forward to hit the door as he groaned.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, sinking into himself a little. Granted they hated each other's guts, but this was the first time he'd seen such open contempt from Harry. And everything he said struck a nerve with the boy. He glared at him, unwilling to back down. "This is just great. You don't want me to stay with you, Harry. You really don't," he threatened the much taller man towering over him.   
  
"You're not helping," Liam groaned, throwing the hybrid an offhanded glare before following Harry out of the room. "Haz," he implored coming to stand a couple of inches behind the man. "Please?" He tried again in a softer voice. "I wouldn't ask if I weren't completely out of other options. Just a week," he promised when the man turned around to face him.   
  
"Forget about the second week, I'll work something out with a friend back home. I'll do anything to make it up to you. I just really need to make this visit."  
Liam had no idea whether any of this impacted Harry's decision as much as the unspoken words that lingered between them did. 'You owe me this,' his stare held.

Given a moment to think while Liam rambled on, Harry found Louis' sharp blue eyes watching them intently from where he was hidden in the doorway, ears just barely peeking past the wall. With an annoyed sigh and eyeroll, Harry arched an eyebrow and glared at Liam, taking the hint and unspoken reminder what the man had, in fact, done for Harry just last summer. "You didn't have to agree to do it, Li. You're your own ma—" suddenly cutting off as an idea planted itself in Harry's head, the man grinned. An entire week with Louis, to torment him and relentlessly tease him without big bad Liam running to his rescue. His flat was his domain, his territory which meant Louis would have to play by _his_ rules, and as much as he despised Louis he admired his kind's strict, and fierce devotion, to following rules; regardless of personal feelings or emotions.   
  
With the new intent in mind, Harry winked at Louis before pressing a hand over Liam's still rambling mouth, frowning when the man still continued to try and speak, resulting in saliva painting Harry's palm. "I'll do it," the man finally said, agreeing to something that may very well end with him going to prison. "As long as Louis follows  _my_ rules, and promises not to break anything." With or without his tail, Harry added silently as he watched the fluffy, poofed out thing wave frantically at his agreement.

Louis was doing his best to listen in on the conversation, his ears flickering in distaste as it went on for so long. Why were they even still discussing it when both him, and Harry were clearly so against the arrangement. He huffed, pacing around before staying put to listen to the tail end of the conversation. Well, whatever they decided, Louis was certain it wasn't going to affect him because, simply enough, he wasn't going. No matter the verdict. He could hold his own. Harry was beautiful. But he was a beautiful jackass. And Louis never signed up for this. A week of living with no-bullshit Harry sounds like what you'd threaten a kid to clean up their toys with. Christ, it was probably enough to get said kid to go to rehab and undergo a full reformation process with.  
  
Although Liam was shocked beyond belief that Harry had actually given in, he tried his best not to show it. He didn't want Harry changing his mind about this.  
"Great, then. So I'll talk to Louis. And we'll see you in the evening?" He posed casually, ending the conversation like it had been the most mundane kind.

Liam was always the poor old sap who tried doing the right thing, even when it was so clearly wrong. Giving a curt nod, Harry glared one last time at Louis before he quickly scampered out of the apartment, away from the two men and towards the safety of his own flat— which would, very soon, be tainted with Louis. He'd have to fucking proof his house, much like new parents do when they have a child. Still, the simple thought of the outcome of this was enough to keep Harry happy and positive as he bought a few cat toys from the closest shop on his way home, knowing damn well that even kitten hybrids weren't immune to them. It was fucked up, yes, and possibly a very cruel joke, but it could keep Louis entertained in the moments of sanity Harry had when he realized how badly he'd fucked up.   
  
Once at his own flat, Harry got to work on taking everything precious or breakable and shoving it in his closet, then he tidied up the spare bedroom that his mate Zayn used to occupy until he'd gotten married and moved. threading fingers through his long hair, Harry cringed when he realized he'd yet to shower today, even though he'd promised himself to after his morning run. It was a sick cycle he had, and this morning he'd admittedly been far too excited to go over to Liam's then he was to shower, even if his hair was a greasy mop and he stunk of bo and the occasional cigarette he _didn't_ have.

"I'm not going and you can't make me!" Louis shouted with the tenacity of a kitten to be reckoned with. Liam was saying a lot of things trying to get him to ease up to the idea. He was even trying to- bless his heart for the efforts, get Louis to consider giving Harry a chance sans the whole they hate each other prejudice that they had going.   
  
With a lot of negotiating and bargaining, Liam-like lecturing and the right amount of petting, Louis was packed to leave. Quite a bit of whining and fuming the whole way there, but it was progress.

  
Louis sighed. It was exhausting to be this high-maintenance all the time. But he quite frankly had no qualms about it. The kitten hybrid had all the stamina and the right amount of give-no-fucks attitude to be perfectly content with all that he was.  
  
But after having entered Harry's lair, and with Liam fixing to leave, Louis was suddenly not half as ballsy as he was before getting here. He glanced at Harry, feeling unusually timid for the first time in awhile. Probably looking the part too. In the last 4 years, Louis had made his apartment with Liam his home. And his outings were limited to routine and familiar places close by.   
  
So it was perfectly understandable that he felt so out of his element with the unfamiliar environment and his _favorite_ asshole for company.

With the promise to keep the kitten somewhat safe and out of danger, Harry ushered Liam from his loft and closed the door with a final click, the soft sound almost sounding like a mocking laugh to Harry; the inanimate object laughing at him for even agreeing to partake in such a mess. Heaving in a lung full of air to force himself to calm down and not immediately snap even though he could _hear_ Louis fidgeting behind him as he rolled on the balls of his feet. If he was any other person, or even hybrid, Harry would feel bad and take pity on them. Luckily for him, though, this _was_ Louis and he didn't have to do shit he didn't want to.   
  
"I have no idea what you like to eat," Harry began when he finally sprouted enough hair on his balls to feel like a man once again, and pushed up off the door, "but I have take out menus in the kitchen, already lined on the table. And if none of those please the princess, please let me know and I'd be more than happy to prepare you a meal of frozen rats sprinkled with just enough arsenic to finally get rid of you." He offered a grin twinged with a hint of malicious, and though he would never _actually_ kill Louis, it was a fun thought the entertain.

Louis flinched at the click of the door, sounding scarily like a sign of finality to him. He bit his lip, deciding to man the fuck up. If anyone should feel threatened, it was Harry. Louis had managed three noise complaints just this month when he hadn't gotten his way. He could barely remember the details of what they were about, but the point in fact is that he was a force to be reckoned with. If Harry had any plans of playing this situation to his tunes, he had another thing coming. Louis would give him hell before he let Harry have the last laugh. Any smugness the man has had about this arrangement, Louis was going to make sure he nipped in the bud. "I'll pass on the arsenic. The rats could come in handy for some of my schemes. But I can't promise you won't wake up to any stuffed up your ass if I get my hands on them," Louis spoke, charming as ever smile in place.

  
He walked into the kitchen, snooping around curiously before settling at the island. He went through the takeout menus and looked up at Harry with a pout. "Liam cooks for me. Do you not know how to cook?"

"With or without poison?" Harry asked with a quirked brow, fully intending on fucking with Louis even though he'd eventually give in and cook because he was starving. The food Liam had laid out for them earlier was complete shit and full of healthy options and yes, Harry ate vegetables, but when he was watching football he wanted his fingers to be greasy and his shirt to be stained with dusty fingerprints from fucking cheetos, or chicken wings.   
  
Plopping down at the island, two chairs down from Louis which gave him enough leg room to stretch out and hook his heels over the seat of the chair closest to Louis. "What would you like? I prefer to have food that's thoroughly cooked and _not_ shoved up my arse, but to get the full experience of temporarily rooming with you, I'll cook whatever you'd like," which, he knew would be a mistake. Kittens and their eating habits were strange, and although most didn't actually cave in and follow their natural instincts to hunt their rodent prey, Harry got a strong inkling that Louis _may_ just suggest something like that to disgust, and fuck with, Harry.

"Without," Louis answered, not missing a beat. "But by all means, feel free to add as much as you want to your portion of the meal," he suggested, giving the man a tight smile. Prick. Smirky annoying prick. "I eat normal food, you caveman. Did you want to try a rodent? Can't be your first time because I'm very sure I've smelt one on you a couple of times."  
Louis was frankly enjoying this just a little. Harry wasn't his usual asshole self. He was still an asshole but, not the usual type Louis was accustomed to. So the banter was kind of nice, without the high-level contempt to go with it.

  
The hybrid sat, poised and self-assured, unhesitant to serve Harry a fresh dish of sass every time he opened his mouth. But his tail wrapped around his leg, and his ears twitched frantically, indicating that he wasn't as confident as he was making himself out to be. And he had all the reason not to be. Harry still smelt, and felt like danger and unfamiliar territory.

Laughing, Harry picked at an invisible ball of lint he swears he seen on his jeans, and was not at all trying to busy his eyes and mind so he didn't continue ogling the boys ears or tail. He admits this is the first time he's ever really cared to look at them, and what a fool he'd been before. They were a much different pattern than most kittens, with slashes of red accenting the natural light brown, and black adding a swirl or smudge here or there to completely change it up. It was enticing, to watch as his ear twitched or the way they stood straight when Louis was giving into his sass and matching Harry's assholeness with bitchiness, but folded in flat when the conversation dropped for a second and he was unsure of what to do.   
  
"What happens in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom," Harry quipped, winking. It was always fun teasing Louis, or pressing every button he possibly could on the boy, because never once did he take anything Harry's ever said to heart. Sure, Harry has seen the way his ears pin back when when the curly haired man has struck a nerve, or the way his tail swishes before slotting between his legs when Harry takes a joke way too far, but Louis always recovers and snarks back with something even ruder, something that would offend the weak of heart.   
  
"Now, what would you like to eat? I can't exactly read your mind, not that I'd want to get lost in that death trap of self loathing and prissy comments." He shuddered at the thought, and could only imagine how either dark and depressing, or Louis filled and colorful the boys mind was because there definitely was no inbetween. "Check the cupboards and fridge. I'll be back in fifteen minutes; gotta shower."

When they weren't hurling insults at each other, Louis' gaze stayed locked on his folded hands. The silence around them was taunting him to speak, but he didn't know if he'd have much in common with no-bullshit Harry, except their mutual penchant for verbal abuse and sarcasm. Although, if he were to be entirely honest, he didn't mind the banter.

  
Because the usual kind was something he'd grown used to, and it had become a _thing_ between them. As avidly mean-spirited as their shots at each other were. Harry's comments from earlier today, however, Louis did not appreciate. And the boy was determined to show him as much. That could wait.  
  
Louis let out a loud laugh at Harry's bedroom comment, sobering up when he realized it made Harry turn his attention to him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. This was going to be a _long_ week. He couldn't imagine being this out of his element and uncomfortable, for the entire duration of his stay, but Louis assumed that was exactly how it was going to be. He fucking hated Liam for this. He was going to trash Liam's bedroom the moment he got back. He was going to bring the man a dead rat and play it off as an innocent kitten gesture for good will. He had no doubts the annoyingly good-spirited human would buy that.  
  
Louis looked up at Harry when he spoke again, ignoring his snark. Harry couldn't possibly handle the web of ongoings in his head. Louis rolled his eyes, sneering at both the thought of it and Harry's lack of sensitivity. Prick. Harry gave the man a tight smile. "Take your time," he called after him, eyes roaming around the kitchen. He hummed in thought. This doesn't have to be that bad. Maybe the house just needed a little breaking in. Like a tight fitting shoe, Louis reckoned. His eyes sparkled with wonder at all the possibilities.  
  
Louis' lips tilted up in a satisfied little smile. He went over to the fridge, rummaging through it and humming a tune with a sway of his hips as he did. This was going to be fun. He'd help Harry with dinner. He dropped a hard slab of butter into the blender, following it with a glass of OJ, canned sardines and milk. He started up the blender without bothering to put the lid back on. Oops. In a nonstick pan, Louis heated milk up until the smell of burnt milk shrouded the kitchen. Harry walked in just in time to see Louis fill the coffee machine with equal parts flour and coffee grounds. In the wrong compartment.  
Louis smiled up at him charmingly. "There isn't much I can do in the kitchen, but I figured I'd help," he offered in peace, as innocently as he could pretend to be.

Harry had only really talked himself into showering so as to not upset the poor princesses nose. This week was going to be longer than both of them wanted, or were really prepared for, and getting nagged over his smell was not something he was jumping at the opportunity to experience. He was out just as fast as he was in, soapy suds clinging to the hair on his legs as he quickly half assed dried his hair, that was now softer and smelt of some weird flower he'd found he liked, and was just tying the towel around his waist when he opened the bathroom door and was swamped with so many unnatural smells. Something was burning, and there was the strong undertone of fish wafting around the steamy bathroom that made Harry involuntary gag. "Louis!" He shouted, stomping down the hallway with the towel hanging dangerously loose on his hips. One wrong move or sudden jerk, and he'd wind up scarring the kitten... Which wasn't _that_ bad of an idea.   
  
The kitchen had a smoky tint to it, a light film that slightly obstructed the felines grinning face. "What the fuck? I leave you alone for five fucking minutes and you take it upon yourself to destroy my kitchen?" Fighting off the sudden impulse to stalk forward and bend the kitten over his knee to _show_ him his actions didn't go without consequences, Harry growled and clenched his teeth together, the obnoxious squeak in his ears only furthering to worsen his bad mood. "Fuck Liam, and fuck what he wants. You're gone. Get your things, and leave." He knew the kitten had no idea where they were, and had no money to take a cab, but he didn't care if Louis wound up in a gutter at this point.

Louis' face dropped at Harry's statement, fish-mouthing for a few moments before he could actually get words out. "But, I don't know—" Screw this. The fuck if he was going to make himself look vulnerable to Harry. He bit his lip, eyes flickering about to try and come up with a plan. But honestly he didn't know what the fuck to do. He wasn't prepared, nor expected to be kicked out by Harry. Sure, he was an asshole, but as far as Louis was concerned, he was practically in the middle of nowhere. It was an unfamiliar part of town. He stood up, walking past the man boldly, unwilling to let his worries be on display for Harry to pick apart and add fuel to. When he was in the guest bedroom, away from Harry's hearing range, he let himself hyperventilate a little, breaths coming out in sharp and short gasps. He could call Liam, but he was halfway across the state. Louis didn't have many friends. The ones he kept were mostly in the acquaintance circle aside from Liam and Niall. Who were both out of the question. He took a steadying breath, grabbing ahold of his duffel and walking out. With one sharp glare at the older man, Louis made his way out wordlessly.

  
He sat on the stairs, chewing on his nails as he dug through his bag for his phone. Maybe he could take an uber. He never has had to before, but there's a first time for everything. He felt hot. He's been warm all morning, but right now, it felt like the air around him was humid. A sudden wave of emotions came over him. He let the tears flow, once he'd made sure he was alone, the words in front of him blurring. This made no sense. Why was he crying over this? He could hold his own when he needed to, surely. He tapped around on the screen and was notified the uber would arrive shortly. He sucked it up and waited, taking in steady breaths. He was mischievous, sure, and he prided himself on it, but was he so hard to deal with enough to be booted out on his ass?

  
The heat he was feeling around him was escalating, and he figured it was just the tears he was suppressing, but by the time the cab was close by, it felt like his body was on fire. It tingled and burned; and he was in the middle of nowhere, body convulsing on the entrance stairs of Harry's apartment with no idea of what to do or where to go or more importantly how to get anywhere in a state like this.

Pissed beyond belief, Harry threw both the coffee pot and nonstick Pan away, clusters of flour and whatever had been in the blender splattering the pan and he wasn't in the mood to scrub it. Grabbing a wet dish towel, he mopped up the mess that stunk of fish, oily smudges left behind from the butter he was assuming was in there if the still open container was anything to go by. Although kicking him out was probably a little harsh and a _very_ big dick move when the kitten knew nothing of this side of town, and was in potential danger just being alone, Harry didn't care. He'd tried being nice by letting Louis stay here, figuring he would at least clean up his act a tad bit and not be the annoyingly destructive idiot Harry knows.   
  
The curly haired man was just putting on a pot of water to boil for his mums family favorite lasagna, when the doorbell rang. Figuring it was Louis, wanting to beg his way back inside and admit he was a fool, Harry decided to let him wait a little longer. But just as soon as he made that decision, the doorbell was ringing again; and again, back to back. Throwing down his box of noodles he was preparing to put in the water, Harry stomped towards the door with the towel still around his waist and jerked it open. "What, Louis? Realize a small kitten like yourself isn't cut out for the big bad world?" Harry growled, only to have his eyes fall on the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen.   
  
A pimply faced teenager was leaning off to the side awkwardly as he supported Louis' entire body weight. His legs were visibly shaking and the poor lad had broke a sweat just from walking up here. Shifting eyes to Louis, Harry felt himself go tense without warning. "What the fuck did you do to him?" The kitten was pale, skin clammy with his fringe pasted against his forehead. He couldn't hold himself up and he was barely coherent, the whites of his eyes just barely visible through the small crack of his eyelids.   
  
"L-Look, man. I found him like this. I'm just his Uber." The teen stuttered over his words, grunting as he moved his hands to Louis' chest and pushed him towards Harry. "I didn't sign up for this," and, after throwing a duffle bag at Harry, he took off running and if his arms weren't full of a mewling Louis, Harry would have followed the prick. "Goddamn idiot," he cursed as he wrapped an arm around Louis and hauled him up a little more, to get better footing himself. Kicking the door shut, Harry spun around and drug Louis towards the living room. "What the fuck did you take?" Liam was going to kill him.

Louis stared at a spot on the floor, trying and failing to stall the convulsions and get a grip on himself. He looked up at Harry, blinking slowly. Now that he was in such close proximity, his manly scent wrapped around Louis, sending him into a sudden dizzy spell. He hated this. Hated that he was in Harry's arms and felt so intoxicated by him after the asshole had kicked him out, but he could barely focus on that fact as he continued to itch and burn inside through out. 

  
His breathing was getting deeper and a sweet scent was radiating from the hybrid boy. That was one small feature of a hybrid's heat. The musky sweet scent they exuded to attract males for mating. He tried clearing his throat a little before he spoke. "I-it tingles" he finally mewled. Louis' tail wrapped around Harry as he looked up at him pleadingly. He needed _something, anything_. He could no longer hold himself back from rutting against Harry shamelessly, mewls not subsiding for all the effort.

Mistaking his mortification for guilt when he quickly realized  _what_ was going on with Louis when that sickeningly sweet flower scent reached his nose, Harry tried prying the boy off of him but he wouldn't budge. The tail wrapped around his torso only further constricted with each tiny movement, the kittens claws digging into Harry's chest as he rutted against the man's bare thigh. “Louis,” Harry squeaked, discomfort radiating off of him like heat off a fire. Ten minutes ago they couldn't stand to be in the same room as each other, and while that may still be the case for Harry, it was  _obviously_ the complete opposite for Louis.

Even as he struggled to still Louis' body for even a moment so he could finish the three foot walk to the living room, Harry couldn't exhale the scent clinging to his nostrils, forcing the boys scent into his lungs with each breath he took, and he couldn't make himself  _hate_ it. Normally, kittens heats didn't affect him. He'd grown up around them, around the scent his entire neighborhood stunk of every month due to all the kittens and their families residing there. He'd grown used to it, immune even, yet here he was, feeling as with each drag of the boys cloth covered crotch down his thigh, pushed him further over the edge; closer to the point of no return.

“Louis,” he repeated, but now his voice was steadier, hands moving to the kittens hips to drag him in more, encourage his movements, instead of push him away. Nobody could predict what was about to happen, but with Louis wrapping around Harry like a vine, creeping closer and closer until their bodies were almost merged and his legs were wrapped around the taller man's waist, Harry had a fairly good idea  _what_  he was signing up for as Louis bared his fangs and drug them down Harry's neck.  _Oh fuck._

"P-please," he stammered uncharacteristically, whimpering and looking into Harry's eyes in a desperate plea. "I, I need..." he hissed, biting down on his lips and screwing his eyes shut. "Neeed-" the boy let out a pained gasp, grinding up against Harry with a reinforced vigor. He grabbed ahold of Harry's hand and backed him up against the wall. Shirtless Harry. Tattoos. Lavender and mint spritzed with the natural earthy scent of spices. Louis' head fell back, eyes remaining closed as he breathed deeply in and out through his mouth, to steady himself. With a startle, he trailed wet kisses up Harry's neck and all along his jaw. Louis' hands roamed all over the older male's torso, filing away every little detail. "Please, j- something," he begged, letting his head fall against the wall, body melting in Harry's hands limply.

Harry didn't know  _what_ to do. Whether to push Louis off and lock him in the guest room, letting him ride out the waves of heat on his own and deal with it however he usually dealt with it, but the strong urging sensation in his gut was telling him to stay put, to give in with little fight and take the boy without a second thought. A pull in his blood awakened him as it began to thrum wildly through his veins. Surging forward, Harry did as he felt was right and let his mind shut off, let himself forget who the kitten was and what possible hatred he may hold for him. His lips connected with Louis' in a sloppy kiss, silencing the pitiful mewls as he reversed them and pushed Louis against the wall.

Fingers ghosted down the boys side before he grasped the hem of his shirt and yanked it up and over his head, disconnecting them momentarily. He nuzzled the boys neck, unknowingly scenting him which would only rile the kitten up further. “If I do this,” Harry said, favoring the break with a few spaced kisses trailing up the boys collarbone, across his neck and ending at the curve of his ear, “I expect you to forget it ever happened by tomorrow.” And to further clarify what he meant by  _this,_ he nipped at the lobe of Louis' ears, positively thrilled when the boy gasped and jerked against him.

Red flags went off in Louis' mind, presenting their case of how this was the worst idea, but he felt like his entire body was working to defeat his mind. He wanted Harry right now. Plain and simple. Consequences be damned, common sense be damned. He all but climbed the man, wrapping his legs around him. With a half-hearted nod in response, he nuzzled his face into the crook of Harry's neck, inhaling deeply. The smell was soothing him.   
  
Even if it was the smallest comfort, he'd take it, in that moment. Anxiety bled through him at the thought that he was about to let Harry take him. A man that he despised; and for good reason. But alongside the anxiety was a burning need for Harry to be in him. He wanted to be filled with no give. Louis wanted to be ruined. He was a mess of different emotions, if the tears of dread streaming down his face coupled with the desperate pleas for Harry to fuck him were anything to go by.  
  
He hissed in satisfaction when Harry began to shower his body with the attention he so desperately begged for. His hole was clenching on nothing and Louis couldn't handle the carnal fire that was uncoiling in his lower parts. His claws rode down the wallpaper rabidly before he turned a menacing glare towards Harry. "If you don't fuck me now, you're next," he warned flatly, surprising himself with the steadiness he managed to voice that with.   
  
The rest of him however, was anything but steady. He brought a shaky hand down to squeeze at his groin, squinting his eyes and breathing out sharply.

Anything else Harry had to say, any further argument or unsureness he felt, was squashed flat. Fire and ice rained down on his body, want twisting around his spinal cord and jerking his body into action. With a simple tug at the towel around his waist, it was falling to a pool of white at his feet which he quickly kicked away. Flesh on flesh as their chests collided made his body hyper aware of what was still blocking them from being completely aligned, from connecting them and without a second thought Harry was ripping the waistband of Louis' sweatpants and they too fell to the floor in a pitiful lump, beyond repair as the worn material frayed at the edge he'd torn.

He was pleasantly surprised to find there was no boxers or even panties hiding beneath the kittens pants, leaving nothing in the way, no excuse or reason for hesitation. “Don't tempt me with a good time,” Harry uttered a few moments too late, desperate to say anything to try and rid his body of this sudden animalistic need he felt to take and claim, to make Louis beg and plead and scream his name. He wanted to make this last, to ride the waves of pleasure and sick satisfaction he got from being partly to blame for Louis coming so undone, but in the same breath he just wanted to  _fuck_  him.

Taking hold of his rapidly hardening cock, Harry gave it a few hard tugs to bring it to full length before he was setting Louis on the floor and spinning him around, the actual thought of them being face to face in the act bringing a naked intimacy Harry didn't want to explore or feel. He pressed himself flat against Louis' back, chin digging into his shoulder as he whispered, “Stay silent,” in his ear before he lined himself up against Louis' pre-lubricated hole- an obvious plus to a kitten's heat- and pushed forward. His head slipped in with ease, the warm heat constricting around him nearly enough to make him just stay put and relish in the feeling, but just wanting to get down and dirty as quickly as possible, he finished pushing the rest of the way in, bottoming out in seconds as his breath stuttered in his lungs.

Louis' jaw hung open, strong waves of lust washing over him in furious tides. He leaned up against Harry. Just the weight and warmth of him pressing down against his own smaller body was seconds away from sending Louis into a familiar bottomless pit of subspace. He fought to stay present and conscious, focusing his gaze on a deformity on the wall ahead of him. With a hot pool of arousal burning up his skin and making him pant like a bitch in heat, Louis didn't know which way was up. But with the impossibly attractive man draped over him, that was hardly a concern. He could figure out which way was up later, Louis thought hazily. His concern right now was to 'stay silent', apparently. Harry was kidding only himself here.

  
Louis screwed his eyes shut as he felt Harry enter him. He gritted down, stomach dipping and face shoving against the ground in prostration. He let out a muffled gasp, torn between pulling away or pushing back against Harry's girth. He couldn't help the moans that spilled out of him as Harry continued forth, bottoming out. Louis' eyes shuttered, his pupils disappearing behind his half-open eyelids. With the fullness ringing through his small body, Louis let out a loud moan. When his hands shot out to find purchase and came up with nothing, he clawed at the floorboards, begging Harry to move.

The moans and whimpers pushed Harry further, fueled him to do what he was intended to do and he'd decided that was to help the boy through the first wave of his heat, nothing more and nothing less. He was simply allowing Louis to use him in his time of need, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself of that, or if he truly believed it. Heats were, to his knowledge, unbearable without a mate. “Fucking hell. Could you be any louder?” He growled, retreating into his usual asshole shell to hide the moans he so desperately needed to release, too, the ones clawing up his throat and leaving burning embers on his tongue. Louis didn't need to know that he was affected, that the curve of his arse was one Harry wanted to trace, that his tongue wanted to slick a path up his spine before he marred the skin at the top of his shoulder, at the curve where it met his neck, with hickies and bites.

Grunting, Harry abandoned his futile attempts at staying in control and clear headed and left them alone, along with his common sense. Leaning forward, he clasped Louis' wrists and jerked the boy up and back, chest against back, completely changing the angle and pushing his cock deeper, head teasing the bundle of nerves with enough pressure to drive anyone crazy. Clumsily lacing their fingers together with his right hand, Harry dropped Louis' left and instead grabbed a fistful of fleshy meat that enclosed the kittens hips. The hold was nearly bruising, hard and fingernails sharp in the flesh as he drew his hips back and thrust forward.

It was a sloppy speed they began with, but several thrusts in and Harry found his footing, found his speed and he stayed with it. It was relentless as he pounded into the kitten, the squelching sound as his cock pulled from the wet heat the only thing to be heard beside the constant smack of flesh on flesh and the guttural moans Louis was emitting. The hardwood floor was rough on his knees, rubbing them raw as his toes curled down and into the wood to help keep them from sliding all over.

With the muscles deep in his stomach pulling and spazzing, moving rhythmically against the boys back, he felt a moan begin to escape his lips, but with a sudden and sharp turn of his hips, making his dick slam straight into Louis' prostate, he was easily able to mask it with a loud groan.

Louis let out a guttural moan, face scrunching in a cross between pain and pleasure. The pleasure was the most intense he'd ever felt, he couldn't see straight, he was being fucked out of visual focus for fuck's sake. And in that moment, he had no regrets. He knew the regrets he wasn't feeling right now would come back to eat him alive when he woke up to the knowledge that he'd lost his virginity to Harry Styles... but for now, he was in a whole new realm of torrid pleasure. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before and he never wanted it to end. His hands reached backwards, above his head to lace through Harry's hair and tugged at the strands. "Harry," he whined in a daze, eyes screwing shut again and jaw hanging slack as his body slammed against Harry's in rapid intervals. The sound of it was the only thing anchoring him to his surroundings.

  
Louis was losing himself in a tranquil mind space where all he knew was the hot pleasure he was feeling. His scalded hands and knees, screaming their displeasure was lost on him. So was the fact that he was lying in a pool of his own sweat and slick. All that mattered was Harry being in him, on him, wrapped around him, shrouding him in a world of arousal that should only justifiably be in lusty romance novels. With a suddenly high pitched moan, Louis' body convulsed violently and he was cumming hard like never before.  
  
He lay still as he came down from his high, feeling sated _finally_. He'd had heats before but he'd never managed to satisfy his cravings like this ever before. He felt so... _complete_. With the very little stamina left in him, he turned around, and smiled up at the other male dopily. "Thank you," he breathed, raising his hand up to brush away the strands of hair that had matted Harry's sweaty forehead.

  
Louis was still floating, very much in the subspace bubble that he had fought so hard not to sink into. His eyes kept falling shut of their own accord, and it was evident the boy was struggling to stay awake. He eventually gave in, falling asleep just like that beneath his former nemesis. Former because now, in the kitten's muddled mind, Harry was _his_. And _his_ chosen human being couldn't very well be his nemesis now, could he? Soft snores left the boy as his body lay limp on the hardwood floor.  
  
This was going to be an interesting couple of days.


	2. I Forgive You Because You're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo :>   
> How are you lovely people today?  
> I'm Em, and this is Chapter 2.  
> Please feel free to tell us what you think!

The morning greeted a very stiff Harry who stood off the hardwood floor with an aching back and bruised knees. You'd mistake his posture and waddled walk as the ‘morning after’ walk, the one were you got fucked raw the night before, when in reality he'd been the one to do the fucking. Stepping over the dried semen now just a flaky patch of his hardwood floor, face twisted with disgust, his stomach rolled when he noticed the kitten still passed out on the hardwood floor though he was now pressed against the wall, his once abandoned sweatpants pulled up and over his body even if they were shredded in a few places.

Giving a satisfied smirk at the look of utter content and exhaustion on the kittens face, Harry quickly ran out of the room when he realized he'd been _admiring_ a sleeping Louis Tomlinson-- and yes, cute was the furthest thing from his mind when he thought of the crumpled mess he'd been. Slipping into the bathroom and closing the door as quietly as he could, Harry paused on his way to the toilet when he'd caught a glimpse of himself in the full body mirror on the opposite side of his door. He looked a complete mess, but completely fucked; the evidence of that statement hiding in plain sight. 

His hair was standing in each and every direction, a matted mess from sweat and.. Semen- the fuck? Short, jagged claw marks littered his shoulders and the back of his neck, reminding him of Louis' threat and his ruined wall in the living room. Even hours later, and his pupils were still a blown mess, his cock slightly sticky from a mixture of semen and Louis' slick; the sweet smell that would stay permanently etched in his brain. 

The gravity of the situation still hadn't caught up to him, and he was left blissfully unaware of exactly what last night meant to the kitten as he took a quick shower and got dressed. It wasn't until he was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast with a scowl on his face as he continuously shot his empty coffee mug a glare-- Thank you, Louis, that it finally settled over him like an ice bath. Louis' arms wrapped around his waist, slim and cold which immediately reminded Harry of a snake. “Morning,” he heard the kitten mumble, words muffled as he buried his face in the back of Harry's shirt and if he wasn't stunned into absolute silence, unable to move any part of his body, Harry was sure a scream that sounded nothing like it came from a grown man, and rather a teeny tiny girl, would have escaped his lips. 

Louis placed a gentle but lingering kiss on the nape of Harry's neck, looking at the man quizzically when a. he didn't respond and b. he looked mortified. Weird humans. Louis shot him a tight-lipped smile nevertheless and exited the room humming. He ventured through the house, grabbing his duffel bag on the way and going into the first bedroom he found. He picked up his toothbrush and some shorts, then stared at his bag thoughtfully.

Louis looked around and found a door to what he gathered was Harry's closet. He picked out one of Harry's well-worn sweaters. The heat flash may be gone for now, but it would be back in a couple of hours with a vengeance. And when it did, Louis wanted to be prepared, with Harry's calming scent wrapped around him. Don't get him wrong. Harry was still a prick. But he was now Louis' prick. There's a difference.

He stalked into what he presumed was the man's ensuite to clean himself up a bit. He took a shower and made a quick job of drying himself off and tossed the towel aside haphazardly. After brushing his teeth and applying a dollop of moisturizer on his face, Louis went back out to join Harry for breakfast. "Do you need any help making breakfast?" He chirped innocently. "Can't say it won't end with me being kicked out on my ass and in potential danger of falling into the wrong hands when I'm defenselessly convulsing on your porch stairs, but I can make a decent cuppa," he snarked with a charming smile. Don't push it. "I'm sorry," he mumbled near inaudibly.  
"I honestly _can_ make a good cuppa," he offered, sheepish.

Harry definitely hadn't been hyperventilating like a maniac as he closed and opened his freezer door to try and cool himself off like a fifty year old woman going through menopause while Louis was in the shower, but even if he had been, nobody would ever know. Having to restart breakfast after his mini meltdown resulted in hockey puck for pancakes, shriveled clumps of black bacon, and charred eggs with beautiful black picket fences lining the once yellow yok. To say he was in a pissy mood, would be the play down of the century. 

He fucked Louis, yes. He enjoyed it, he did. Did he want it to happen again? That definitely wasn't an entirely displeasing idea considering how tight and responsive the kitten had been, but he didn't want _Louis_. He wasn't the relationship type of guy, and even if he had been, Louis wouldn't be the first to break his 22 year long spell. He still detested the boy, and just because he dipped his fishing pole in Louis' little own pond of wonderland, _didn't_ mean he had some big eureka moment and realized he was in love with the kitten-- because, no. This wasn't some cliche Rom-Com. He was still sane, and could still see the absolute nightmare that Louis was. 

He was just plating everything when Louis sauntered into the kitchen, wearing Harry's sweater of course, and offering to do the very thing he got kicked out for last night. “No! I would like to keep the rest of my appliances, and not die from whatever poisonous concoction you cook up,” rolling eyes up to Louis, he smiled sarcastically and held up the plate piled high with food. “Now, take your food and stay the fuck out of my kitchen.” 

Louis shrugged, smile hiding behind his clasped hands. "Okay," he mouthed. The boy eyed the plate in front of him appreciatively, picking up his fork and beginning to shovel his food into his mouth. "Well, this," he mumbled, raking through the rest of his plate, impressed by Harry's efforts. "This sure is some impressive gourmet cooking."

"You're going to bring pride to our nation someday," Louis said flatly, gouging down his food.

He raised his eyes up to the evident mess that was Harry Styles this morning. It should be the other way around, really. Louis' the one who lost his virginity among them, and Louis' also the one who was biologically designed to not be able to control his sexual instincts. Oh well. "Can I help clean up after, then?" He chirped, grabbing onto Harry's hand as he passed.

"What do you want to do today?" He asked conversationally. "When we're not indisposed with matters of more pressing concern, I mean?"

Harry got a few bites into his food before he decided, with a rolling stomach, he wasn't hungry. Louis, a child in his eyes all of a sudden, kept watching him like a hawk and Harry was mentally preparing himself for a screech he was sure the boy would make at any moment. Eyeing Louis' tail over the rim of his glass, which was filled with Orange juice, much to his disappointment, Harry idly wondered how his tail hadn't gotten in the way, or been an immediate turn off. In fact, he hadn't really even thought of it until now, nor could he recall actually paying attention to it when they'd had sex, before or during. 

Swiping away the thoughts as he scraped his plate in the garbage and deposited both it and his cup in the steadily growing pile in his sink, Harry turned to retreat to his room to get dressed in something more appropriate for the day, meaning not just some shirt he'd found on his bathroom floor and a pair of old joggers, when Louis grabbed him. He jerked back, feeling physical pain from the simple contact and though he knew it was all psychological, he couldn't help but imagine his flesh sizzling before his eyes, masking the already scabbed over gouges from his and Louis' disagreement yesterday. 

Hissing lowly, Harry backed away from him and kept a close eye on him, to assure he wouldn't move. “ _I'm_ going to work. You know that thing a mature adult does to _actually_ pay their own bills?” he said, not hiding his distaste at the idea of spending a full day with him. Then, added under his breath, “we can't all have a Liam.” 

Smirking when Louis rolled his eyes, something Harry had found him doing a lot lately, the older man gestured around the apartment. “I have no idea how you spend your days, but I can't imagine you do anything eventful.” He said with a grin. “Scratch that, you've managed to keep from burning down Liam's loft, so I suppose that's a win when you're involved.”

Louis' face dropped when Harry backed away like his touch burned him. He frowned. Harry didn't seem to mind when he was fucking him last night. Louis shook his head to himself and plastered a smile onto his face. "What do you do? Do you make puppies cry for a living? I'm sure you do a _great_ job at what you do then," Louis teased, intent on keeping the conversation lighthearted. "Thank God for Liam" he returned, rolling his eyes, beginning to get annoyed at Harry's judgment.

"Oh, I get it. _This_ , is your job," he held his arms out, gesturing. "At least you're dedicated to it. Tell me, how much do they pay you to walk around acting like you have a stick up your arse 24/7?" Louis stood up, following Harry into the other room and climbing onto his lap before he could protest. "It's okay, I can learn to live with it," he informed, kissing the man on his nose. "Now what do you suggest I can do to help around the house? Liam asked me to _carry my weight_ when I got here." He frankly did not give a flying fuck about Liam's request. It was probably his hormones, whatever it was, it was driving him towards the instinctual need to be good for Harry. _Heats._ This time, in addition to the physical exhaustion, it brought a whole new entirety of mental exhaustion, circling around the fact that he'd had sex with Harry and his inner submissive was now responding to it. In ways that he's never had to deal with before.

Harry had tried closing his bedroom door to deny Louis access, but apparently a closed door meant little to the kitten as he curled up on Harry's lap and kissed his nose before the older man could react. Pulling his head back and out of Louis' reach, he held his arms up and off to the side, ensuring he wouldn't touch Louis, accidentally or-- no, he'd never touch him intentionally. Last night was a fluke, a flaw in judgement and, well, it's obvious actually. The fumes from whatever Louis had put in the blender had _fucked_ with him. 

Without hesitation or even a second thought, Harry was pushing Louis out of his lap and standing to erase any and all chances of what had just happened, to happen again. “I do that pro-bono, though many companies have offered me a pretty penny to remove said stick,” Harry snarked back before pointing towards his open door. “Now exit before I drag you out of here and handcuff you to the couch. I have to get ready for my job, which is working as a drafting engineer.” He said, following with, “not that it's any of your business.” 

When he realized Louis wasn't budging from his place now perched on the floor next to the bed, Harry huffed in annoyance and stripped from his clothes; having zero shame. Louis had already seen him naked, had fucked himself on his cock last night, so a little nudity wouldn't scar him that bad. Grabbing a long sleeved mint green button up shirt from his closet, paired with a simple pair of black skinny jeans minus the rips in the knees, Harry pulled the clothing on followed by a pair of black shoes that had a small, maybe ¼ inch heel. 

His long hair was pulled into a bun on top of his head, flyaways really showing the I-don't-give-a-fuck mood he currently had. “Don't touch anything,” he growled while fixing his collar, only now remembering Louis had asked him what he was to do while he was away at work. “Just-- watch tv, and try not to break anything. I know how much you love to destroy things, but could you, for once, _not_ give into your natural urges?” _Like you did last night_ , Harry added silently, but what exactly did that say about him? He hadn't necessarily pushed him off, and gave in with little persuasion. 

Louis fell off Harry's lap with a startle. "Mm, that's hot," The cheeky boy quipped, holding his wrists out to Harry teasingly at the handcuff comment. Drafting engineer. Louis' eyebrows raised at that. That sounded important. He couldn't have guessed greasy-haired no-bullshit Harry could possibly have the charisma or whatever it took for a job like that. Louis scampered to try and keep up with him, biting his lip nervously as he watched him dress. "Y-you're actually leaving?" Louis asked quietly. 

A deep frown settled on his face as he debated voicing his concerns. "You can't leave," he tried, clenching his hands anxiously and shrinking in on himself a little. "Harry the heat flashes... will come back," he informed the man, raising his eyes to gauge his response. "Since we mated, I can't go back to dealing with it myself," he explained, walking around after the man like a lost puppy. "When will you be back?"

When Harry didn't seem like he had any intention of ditching his plans to leave, Louis took a deep breath and launched himself at the man, curling around his legs and not letting go. "You can't leave!"

His arms were wrapped around Harry's calves tightly. "If you struggle, my kitten claws come out. I can't help it- it's a natural reflex." He rested his face against Harry's legs, the warmth from the man seeming to calm him down. What the fuck? Until last night, a nearby Harry made Louis' skin crawl.

He looked up at Harry's face with uncertainty.

Harry wasn't sure what had snapped in his brain to make him think that _this_ would have been a good idea. Trying to shake his leg free of the kitten's grasp, he glared. “You wouldn't Dare. It's not like ninety percent of my body's already covered in your marks.” He hissed, honestly displeased with the entire thing but with the smirk he received from Louis, he knew the kitten was entirely too pleased. “Fuck off, Louis, and let me go to work. It's for two fucking hours, Christ sakes.”

Harry had already called in yesterday and explained his rather unpleasant predicament to his boss, and while the man was busy laughing-- because Harry Styles had actually _agreed_ to take Louis Tomlinson in, the man he swears he hates- he gave Harry the next two weeks off-- for the off chance Harry let the kitten stay the entire duration of Liam's trip. The man's wife was a kitten, his kids an array of kitten hybrids and simple humans, so he understood completely _why_ Harry needed time off. He would just be waiting with his tv on the news, expecting to either see Harry's entire apartment building having burnt to the ground, or the curly haired man's mugshot with a gruesome description on a helpless kittens _murder_. 

Today his entire reasoning for going into work was to sort through their latest project, and help guide them on the right direction; which meant he was going to hide everything they've done so far, and set them on a different path until he returned. He'd probably throw in an existing product and tell them to modify the already ‘perfect' thing to increase efficiency and improve performance. That would keep them busy for a few days, at least. 

Shaking his leg once again, Harry finally gave a growl and with a lot of focus and struggle, he was able to reach a hand behind him to grab Louis' wrist. That was all it took; one free wrist to haul him up and with little thought, he hefted him up and over his shoulder, arm locked over the back of his thighs like a tight bar on a ride at a carnival. “You're fully capable of taking care of yourself,” Harry said, reaching into his nightstand drawer to grab the metal handcuffs that jingled and made his heart sing. Throwing Louis down on the bed, he gave him little opportunity to struggle free and clasped the handcuff around his one wrist, moving the metal links to wrap around a bar that made up his headboard, before closing the other cuff around his wrist; thoroughly locking him in place. 

Harry sure was grumpy. And difficult. So. Fucking. Difficult. Good thing he now belonged to Louis, the boy thought with a satisfied smile, nuzzling his face into Harry's leg and kissing him there. Louis would condition his human well. He'd at least make the man bearable, he resolved. He smiled up at Harry. "Looked like you were planning on staying at home until you snapped."

"I'm sorry I annoyed you. Please stay?" He implored, giving Harry his most convincing kitten face. It had worked on Liam a hundred and eighty three times. His sparkly anime eyes were too hard to resist. 

He huffed incredulously when it seemed to have no effect on Harry. Who the fuck even was he. When the man shook his leg again, Louis held on tighter, willing his claws to not dig into him. Harry was probably in enough pain. He didn't need to be clawed at on top of having a stick up his arse, the boy mused to himself. He gasped when he was picked up and carried, thrashing in Harry's hold. Louis' eyes widened when he saw the actual metal handcuffs in Harry's grasp. He mewled at the man, looking up at him uncertainly. "You can't— what if I have to..." he sputtered, tugging at the chains to find there was no give. 

"Harry, don't leave me alone. You don't understand," he yelled watching him exit, raising his voice to be heard the further away Harry went. "What if—" he trailed off, hearing the heavy front door shutting. He deflated at the knowledge that he was alone, second wave of heat hanging overhead with his hands indisposed. Let alone having no toys to ride it through. He took small, controlled breaths, closing his eyes and praying his body could keep its shit together for two hours and then bitch at him for not being fucked. If only.

Clearly, the deities Louis prayed to, had no mercy to spare. Because 30 minutes later, Louis' body started to heat up to an unnatural temperature again. He let out a shuddery breath as his groin started to burn, the sensation slowly crawling through the entire expanse of his body. The handcuffs grazed against his wrists uncomfortably as he tried to grant his swelling length some much-needed friction. He tried grinding down on the bed with no avail, groaning when he realized yet again, that his movements were restricted. 

His body didn't seem to know or care about that however, a primal urge driving his hands towards his genitals, getting themselves marred in the process. He shouted frustratedly, and with a few tears escaping his eyes, he sagged back in defeat. And then another tide of pain coursed through him, making his body arch with a scream. What Harry didn't know was that once mated, a hybrid couldn't get through their heat without their partner. At least until a fortnight after the mating. So the heat flash Louis was currently experiencing was not going to subside until he was filled with Harry's dick. He began to sob in pain, finding the alarm clock in the room with blurred eyes. One hour more.

By the time the hour was up, Louis had long lost count of how many times his body convulsed against the headboard painfully, how many times his hands had violently strained against the metal of his cuffs, and how many times he had yelled for Harry knowing full well that he was alone. He had shriveled in on himself by the time the man entered the room, unfocused red eyes finding him and sobbing harder. "Off," he lamented in a hoarse voice, referring to the handcuffs, but too worn out to explain.

Harry, though he was unaware of the severity of leaving a kitten alone during a heat, had this knott in the pit of his stomach the entire time he was away. He tried playing it off as the oncoming flu being the reason for his twisting intestines, for the way his lungs concaved with each breath; worsening as the minutes counted down on the clock. His eyebrow was knitted together with a thin layer of sweat, beads clinging to his eyelashes like clumps of crystalized water and he was freaking the fuck out. At first, with the low thump of his heart suddenly being the only thing he could hear following the crushing sensation on his chest, he thought he was having a heartache. 

It wasn't until he was stumbling to his car and driving away from the building, and towards his loft that he found some sort of relief. The twisted chains that hung low and heavy around his neck seemed to lessen, if only a little, with each passing second. He easily debunked it as psychological, the thought of being home and able to relax lessening his symptoms; even if a part of him _knew_ pouring off of Louis in waves. 

Harry didn't realize he was moving, or even reacting, until he was grasping Louis' ankles and dragging him further down the bed to pull his arms taut. “I'll take care of you,” he found himself whispering to the kitten, even if he wasn't able to register the words or his movements until it was too late. Once again, as he flipped Louis onto his stomach with careful movements as to make sure his now crossed arms didn't snap, he kept reminding himself this was _for Louis_ \-- to help him. It was nothing more. 

Louis sobbed, burying his face into the pillow. Harry didn't get it. "Please," he begged, trying to wring his bruised wrists free. He felt so weak. " _Please,_ " he repeated a few more times like a broken record as he waited for Harry to get situated. He felt like he was dying. He hated the other man so much after today, but a bigger part of Louis _needed_ him right now. He cried so hard when Harry finally pushed into him. Whether it was in relief, or the trauma of being so helpless for so long- when his body was in so much profound pain, Louis didn't know. But the tears kept flowing, the sobs kept spilling out of him. When Harry tried moving away, he plain screamed, tail wrapping around the man's torso and keeping him close. He didn't need Harry checking in on him. He just needed the man to pound into him until all he knew was the feeling of Harry’s slow, rough drags against his walls. He's never had such a painful heat before.

A hybrid usually stayed close to their partner after mating during a heat. If not there was a lack of receptive pheromones that dulled the pain of a new mating. And that was exactly what he'd just experienced for the first time in his life. He needed Harry to pound him senseless to numb the other sorts of pain coursing through him. Louis moaned loudly with no reservations this time as Harry hit his prostate _so good_. The attention on the bundle of nerves there was sensational. He bit down on his pillow, raging cock now ready to release with each ram against his prostate. He was getting really tired, eyes fighting to stay open. Louis had no idea how he was shutting down mentally while his body was preparing to cum, but he let it happen. He shot his load with a pained scream, simultaneously falling limp against the bed. He was out cold.

Harry had kept quiet, just doing what he knew Louis needed while also trying to chase his own release. Muscles deep within his stomach clench as he slides further up the bed and completely changes the angle of his cock; gives into his dirty desire and with a simple tug at the mental strings at the back of his skull, he was fucking into Louis, practically fucking him into the mattress with no restraint. 

Harry had started with hard, regulated thrusts, each one making the kitten beneath him mewl in approval as a stream of unintelligible mumbles followed, but before long he was going for it, jackhammering into Louis who in return tried scrambling across the sheets in a futile effort to get better footing to meet Harry's powerful thrusts, but eventually gave up and went limp in the bed. Unlike the first time, there was nothing slow or smooth about this. It was raw fucking, feeding the insatiable hunger that desperation was.

When Louis was the first to spill over the edge, coming with a scream that spoke to Harry in a way he couldn't describe, urging-- no, demanding him to bite _whatever_ he could. His dull teeth sunk into Louis' shoulder, sharp and fast and if not for his sanity that was barely hanging on by loose strands, he was sure he would have popped through the skin before being able to register what the warm, metallic liquid was on his tongue. Luckily, even as he too went over the edge, chasing Louis even if he didn't know it, he was still able to pull back from his attack on the kittens neck and moan instead. 

For a minute, he just laid there, Harry a panting mess covered in his own semen and sweat as Louis' slick dribbled down the inside of his thigh. He felt whole then, more so than he had the entire day, but the reason why didn't register to him. He couldn't possibly know that the reason was because he was Louis' mate, and that even if he despised the boy lying unconscious next to him, his body didn't and it craved the kittens very presence. 

Which is why when Harry found himself back behind Louis, an arm hooked across the kittens stomach and hauling him onto his knees, he wasn't entirely sure _why_ he felt compelled to move; he just did. Knowing damn well Louis was unconscious and it was because of him, Harry still dipped his head and did a test run of sliding his tongue down the cleft of Louis' arse, skirting around his raw hole that was still gaping open, milky semen and the creamy slick pooling out. With a satisfied grin, Harry _finally_ did what his body was pushing him to do, and before he knew it, he was rimming Louis, tongue fucking into his already stretched hole and collecting the mixed cum that had sweet and salty clashing on his tongue, yet tasted so perfect together. 

Louis stirred, whimpering quite a bit in his state of unconsciousness, but otherwise lying still. He would be completely oblivious when he woke up.  
Hours later, when Louis finally stirred awake, Harry was in bed with him, and the handcuffs were _finally_ off. He inspected the bruises on his wrists and cradled them to his chest for comfort. He then flicked his attention to Harry's sleeping face, assessing him slowly. 

He looked peaceful. Fucking prick. Half of Louis' face was buried into his pillow, other half peering at the older man with mistrust. His body felt battered, but apparently the long hours of rest had done him a world of good because he no longer felt like he was dying. When Harry began to wake up, Louis quickly turned the other way and pretended to sleep. He didn't feel like talking to him right now. He hated this. He hated that his raging urge to rip Harry a new one was overpowered by the need his body felt to be held by the man. He waited for Harry to leave the room before he sat up.

Louis sighed, staring at the clock. 7:18. As if on cue, his stomach groaned angrily. He pulled his body out of bed, and rummaged through his bag for new shorts. The boy hauled them on and pulled Harry's sweater down over them. He walked out of the room, towards the kitchen, powering through the pain in his ass at each step. With no indication of struggle. Louis looked through the fridge to find the healthy-eating bullshit Harry seemed to always stock up on.

He rolled his eyes, looking in the pantry instead. The boy grabbed a few protein bars and a packet of saltine crackers, tossing them on the island counter and taking a seat. He nibbled on his saltine crackers disinterestedly, keeping an ear out for Harry, and huffed annoyedly when he heard the man approaching the kitchen. He made himself look busy, standing up and putting some bread in the toaster. This way, his back was turned on the man, and he could prolong having to address him for a minute longer.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what had happened last night, only the bitter streaks on his tongue a reminder that he had definitely done something with his tongue. Everything was hazy, limbs heavy from the aftermath like the master controlling his strings had long since fled, leaving him alone to deal with his wooden limbs. His skin was crawling with the need to run as he got dressed in sweats and a grey shirt, shoes a bitch that he struggled to lace. 

When he entered the kitchen and seen Louis was trying his damndest to ignore him, he thanked whatever god was watching over their pathetic asses and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Without speaking, or offering an explanation as to where he was going, Harry swiped a protein bar of the table and left. A part of him was drawn back to Louis, a faint tug in his stomach that was annoying as shit, but a larger part of him was drawn to nothing. No destination, just the sound of his feet hitting the road. 

An hour later, with the bottom of his sweats soaked from all the puddles he'd stepped in that had splashed up and lapped at his ankles, Harry found himself a panting mess sitting on a bench in the middle of a crowded park. Children ran without a care in the world across the green grass, their giggles and encouragements to run faster echoes off the tree. Couples strolled hand in hand, oblivious to the world around them as they discussed the world only they inhabited; and then there were the loners like him, looking completely lost and dazed as they gazed around, in hopes to find the answer to the question they couldn't possibly form in words. 

But Harry could; why was he suddenly sleeping with Louis fucking Tomlinson? His mind hasn't changed it's opinion on the small kitten, nor has his heart ever skipped a beat or some other stupid fucking shit when the kittens looking at him. He hates him, possibly a lot more now, yet he still found himself wanting to fuck him. Harry's had his for share of sexual partners, was the one who created the term, “one night stand,” yet he has never been drawn back to a partner before and he thinks it's because he's never allowed himself to sleep with a kitten. This was new territory, exciting territory, and while he wanted nothing else to change, maybe he wanted to continue fucking Louis? Just until the boy was out of his system and Harry could go back to feeling nothing but loathing for him. 

Louis took in a deep, calming breath when he heard Harry leave. What. A dick. He was filled with so much of rage, he had no idea what to do with. He let out a few sharp exhales, knuckles turning white where he gripped the counter edge. He was trying- he was trying so hard to keep it at bay, but it was building, mounting to new, higher levels. It felt like the anger was physically consuming him and he just- he needed to—  
A plate crashed against the wall with a loud shatter. It took a moment for Louis to realize he'd done that. Tears dripped down his face as the fragments of another landed along the first one. Oh, that felt good. But he needed to get it the fuck under reigns. Louis needed to breathe. He collapsed into a chair, face crumbling at the pain shooting up his spine.  
He sat there, for hours, a swarm of thoughts rushing through his head in an endless circle. He had so many doubts, so many fears and Harry wasn't helping with them in the least with the shit he pulled yesterday.

When the dickhead finally decided to show up, Louis was still sitting there, staring blankly ahead. He took his time turning his attention to the man with a tight smile. Louis greeted him with a small movement of his hand, tipping Harry's mug over the edge of the counter watching stoically as it shattered against the marble floor. "What you did yesterday was uncalled for," he said conversationally. "You have no idea what I went through, and I hate you a little more for it," the boy informed, standing up and walking to stand in front of Harry. He backed him into a chair and sat on his lap. "But I forgive you."

He kissed Harry's lips. "Because you're mine now." He trailed a finger down Harry's torso, and clutched at his groin, squeezing a little on the side of too hard. "This," he emphasized. "This is mine."

The first thing Harry noticed was the shattered glass, strewn across his floor in shards that ranged in sizes and soon enough, his cup was following suite, becoming nothing more than a disfigured lump of glass. Surprisingly enough, he was calm even as Louis spoke, even as the boy pushed him into the chair and laid claim on him when he had no right. Harry hardly moved as the hand squeezed his groin, shoving him closer to his melt down point yet he still somehow managed to keep himself under control as he stood, Louis in lap, and dropped him onto the kitchen table. 

“I am not yours,” he said with a low growl, slowly undoing the string on his pants. “And I never will be. You mean nothing to me, Louis. You're a nice fuck, but beyond that,” he leaned in to nip at the underside of the boys jaw, baring teeth to drag them down and across his pulsepoint, “you're nothing. We're nothing.” The words spoken were harsh, and he could have approached the subject with gentler words, but he found Louis responded well to Harry's dick-y-ness, always listened to his words when they were harsh. 

To further prove his point and bring truth to the words he spoke, Harry jerked Louis until his arse was hanging off the edge of the table, then he flipped him, shoving the kittens face into the table as he ripped his pants off, leaving him naked from the waist down. “This will never be anything more.” I could never do more, Harry added in a silent thought, barely audible in his own head. He'd never done the monogamy thing, had never actually been interested in it and couldn't see himself being in a relationship anytime soon, especially not with Louis. As he said, the boy was fun, fucked dirty, and that was that. Harry had to set ground rules, had to shake the crazed kitten out of his possessive funk and show him he was wrong. That it was just sex. 

Louis cocked an eyebrow at the man, tilting his head to the side. Harry was turning the tables on him. He smiled. The boy watched on curiously as Harry carried him to the kitchen table. He watched the mirth and anger dance around his exquisite green eyes. It was the only tell on his otherwise stoic face.

He let the words sink in, face remaining neutral as he listened to Harry pull out all stops in trying to make Louis feel insignificant. It was working for the most part. Except Louis didn't believe him. Harry could try and push him away all he wanted, but he wouldn't be able to deny his biology for much longer. And Louis would love to see Harry try and settle for a human after having sex with his kind. The difference was too drastic. Hybrids were unequivocally the advanced species in that regard.

Louis would let him have this for now. His hands shot out to gain purchase on something as he was slid along the table in a quick movement. Long brown locks dangled with the motion, managing to center Louis for a short moment before he was flipped over suddenly, pulling a gasp from him. His breaths fogged up the dark surface of the table and his hands reached out to hold onto the edge. He felt a draft brush his now bare legs and arse, sensitive pink hole glistening its welcome. 

Louis bared down on the table in anticipation, muffling his first moan into his stretched arm. They'd see just how long Harry could hold up his resolve before it cracked. 

Louis was ready to dust away every last piece.

Louis bowed beneath Harry with every touch, every harsh whisper, offering himself in a way that would make most hearts flutter; he was giving himself to Harry in every possible way he could. With a bruising grip on his hips, holding him in place and denying him a chance to move; to escape now that he was caught in Harry's web, the man thrust into him and didn't even give him a chance to adjust before he was moving; fucking; proving Louis was just a warm body to him when he refused to touch other than what was required, when he blocked every effort the kitten made to kiss, to reach behind him and find parts of Harry to anchor him in place. 

This was how Harry has fucked his entire life, too disgusted with himself by using another person like he was to face them, to let them see him as he comes undone and vice versa. So he's hid behind them, has never once faced another person while he fucked because that wasn't him. The person using them, taking what they could give him before he left them with nothing-- at least it wasn't, at least before he met Louis. He was willing to take everything from Louis now, to suck him dry and make him realize love wasn't an option in this world, or even a possibility. He was going to break the kitten, fuck him into oblivion time and time again before he left, doing exactly what he does every single time. 

Because Harry was good at running, had been his entire life. If Louis was too naive to see that, and refused to see the bad in Harry, than the only thing the man could do was take advantage of that. 

Breathless moans would forever be etched into the chips and scratches on his table from the kittens claws, slick staining his floor and finger smudges lining the table. He took, while also giving, fucking him from behind while keeping his eyes on everything else he possibly could. He was close to coming from the first few minutes, but doubled his efforts, pushing into Louis with a new-found purpose, striking his prostate with every thrust. And when he pushed the kitten over the edge, Harry followed right behind him, keeping silent while also aware of the tears that splattered on Louis' arm as the kitten silently cried. 

Harry told him he was nothing; so why should he believe he was anything but?


	3. Why didn't you end it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIIII! It's me, i'm back. That was the lovely Em you met last chapter, and I see she's taken the time to respond to the comment's. (Show off) XD Anywhoodle, I plan on responding to a few myself. Late, I know, but we can't all be on top of things like a certain someone... (EM) Just kidding. Oh god, I'm so sorry you have to read this and that I am actually going to post it. All well. As I was saying, that was Em, and I would truly appreciate it if you'd send some love her way! She doubts herself. (We all know it's I who should be doubting themselves in this scenario... HAVE YOU SEEN HER WRITING) With that aside, I hope you all enjoy this story! I am truly loving it, and soooo excited with the direction it is heading. We have a few chapters written in advance, so expect pretty reliable and consistent updating. I will be posting all odd numbered chapters, and Em even... So, yeah. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter?? Thanks. :)

In the next two weeks, Harry and Louis had worked out some sort of unspoken agreement. They coexisted with minimum outbursts and a record amount of orgasms in the span of two weeks. You could say they were quickly approaching the frenemy zone. Still had it out for each other with harsh words and even harsher insults, but living with a person also meant developing a sense of routine domesticity with them. And in that regard, they were functioning surprisingly well for people who fought this idea the whole way through.   
  
Louis was actually making an effort to carry his weight around here. An effort he'd never extended under Liam's roof. But with Harry, it was a little different. He'd suddenly grown to thrive on the smallest signs of approval he could get out of him. It made the boy feel pathetic, displayed in the small shows of passive aggressiveness he'd been throwing around. Probably had to do with the mating bullshit, but it was really helping them get along, even if in the slightest. It was still something. Harry was an asshole, as always, no change there.

However, Louis served just as hard.  
  
Still it was...

working.  
  
Louis' heat had came to a satisfying end three days after the handcuff incident, his body temperature stabilizing and mind regaining a much stronger sense of focus. Although, it was clear that his past heat had brought about a change. A change heavily involving the asshat sat in front of him, smiling cockily as he made a slight at Louis that  _he_ thought was hilarious. Harry was an overgrown toddler with a dirty mouth. In every sense of the phrase. Some not as unpleasant as the other. He was still repulsive, the boy would maintain.  
  
But in moments like this, when Louis had no pressing reason to be genuinely mad at him, Louis noticed how much he liked seeing the tiny craters in his cheeks that were brought about with the rare smile. How he would  _miss_ seeing them. The way his worry lines stacked up on his forehead in aggravation, pouring down into furrowed eyebrows at something devastatingly unfunny Louis just said. When he wasn't mad at Harry, his lips suddenly seemed so much more kissable.   
  
Maybe it was the fact that Liam's arrival was looming overhead, maybe it was the rare moment of companionable silence. Or maybe it was just an urge Louis couldn't bother to reign in. Whatever it was, it drove him to close the distance between them, connecting their lips in a soft kiss before the man could register and protest it. He should've known better, really. Harry had shut down any attempt at intimacy outside their unclear parameters of sex. And he fully expected to be pushed off. He was expecting to land on his ass any second now, but he kissed Harry with no reservation. He just... He felt like he had to.  
  
They morally should've stopped having sex the moment Louis' heat ended, but their bodies were so in sync, it felt like they were a jigsaw _magnet_ designed to slot together- as much as they both refused to admit, or even acknowledge it.

The want to have Liam return slowly diminished in the passing days as the two spent their time fucking, eating or sleeping. Harry would never admit it to himself, let alone out loud, that he'd gotten used to having the loud mouthed kitten hanging around, his presence comforting even in the early hours of the morning when the older man found himself unable to sleep. When they didn't fuck until they were exhausted and fell asleep in the same general area, they would part ways at night and go to their respected bedrooms. On the nights that didn't happen, Harry seemed to be more interested in tracing the shadowy shape of the boys face in the poorly lit room, only the moon filtering in through the thick curtains bringing any light to their skin; brushing what hasn't been touched by the sun in days-- then he was in sleeping.

A bubble of content was a thinly made barricade that didn't extend further than his apartment. When he was separated from Louis, whether that be on his scarce runs, a food trip, or a quick pop in at work, he was a lot more level headed and could think clearer. It was in those hours that he would question everything, and vow to end their sex sessions as soon as he got home but somehow; for some reason, the kitten and his excitedness to see Harry-- a genuine reaction as soon as the door opened, Harry automatically backed out. It was for only a few more days, he'd think, what could possibly be the harm?

It wasn't until the weeks turned into days, and the days a mere number of hours, that he  _really_ let what had been going on sink in. His moments of clarity caught up to him and swirled in his mind when he'd received a phone call from Liam, reminding him that he'd be home in less than forty eight hours. Then, suddenly, Harry couldn't  _wait_. His jokes turned into harsh jabs and words intentionally meant to hurt Louis, and he was no longer interested in watching the way the kitten’s tail curls when he's tired, flicks around wildly when he's happy, or wraps around his torso when he's hurt or upset. His facial expressions became bland, too; boring. The moonlight had added a mysteriousness to his soft features, but the sun enhanced his already boring traits and spoke the truth to Harry that the darkness had hid. Louis was Louis, and who Louis was, was not somebody Harry enjoyed.

They'd been lounging in the living room, talking about everything and nothing as the tv flickered with soundless images in the background. Harry kept inching towards the discussion of Liam's return, trying to Gauge Louis' reaction and see if he'd thoroughly squashed the kittens obsession with him, but each time, Louis deflected. Harry had grown irritated and was prepared to leave when his question had finally been answered, though not in the sense he'd been hoping for. Soft lips brushed his timidly at first, before Louis took his lack of reaction as a good sign and scooted closer, became more sure of himself as sharp fangs caught Harry's lip and tugged.

The curly haired man felt himself giving in for a split second, loving the sharpness of the kiss and the pleasure the punctured lip brought, but just as quickly as he was getting into it, he was flying out. With a shove back that had been far rougher than he'd intended, Louis fell to the floor and Harry was wiping the blood/saliva mixture off the corner of his lips. “I told you,  _feline,_ I'm not interested in this,” he hissed, waving a hand between the two of them. “I never should have let this go on for as long as it has. Your delusions are getting out of hand.” he'd made it clear before, hadn't he? Sex only, nothing more?

And just like that, the fantasy glasses were off, leaving Louis with a moment abruptly snatched from him, ringing incomplete. It was an endless cycle of that. He'd feel like he was getting somewhere with the man, only to be scorned at the moment it got too real for Harry. And no amount of repeated words, or self-disdain was strong enough to hold its ground against the urge that drove him back into Harry. He sighed, ears falling back and tail wrapping around himself before he could help the natural reflex. He stood again, face heating up.

  
Situation on the Harry front: still an asshole and growing.

  
For this reason, Louis counted down the days for Liam's arrival. He'd found himself eager to get back home for the first time, when Harry's jabs began to take on a more derogative route. And since then, he'd slipped into a messy spiral of feeling too attached to the man to be able to leave, and wanting so desperately to be back home away from Harry in order to regain a semblance of self-respect.   
  
Well,  
  
Self-respect could wait...  
  
A soft thud sounded as Louis' knees met the floorboard. "The only delusion here, is that you think you can go back to your human degenerates for sex after the time we've had," Louis purred. He undid Harry's belt, tugging his zipper down to free his length. He mouthed at the man's boxer-clad head teasingly. "Harry, why didn't we stop having sex after my heat?" Louis asked plainly. Seeing the man in no hurry to respond, he continued. "For a moment, just forget about all our differences. Let's agree on one thing. We have _great_ sex."

Harry couldn’t answer, at least not with a response he knew would dismiss Louis’ smugness while also ringing truth; at least a little truth. “It was convenient,” he easily lied, fingers lacing through the kittens soft hair as he gave a tug. “You were a room away. I wanted to fuck, and you were there. No waiting for a random hook up,” lying with Louis has always been easy, even if he didn’t know what he was lying about. At least there was truth to his words, and the slight hesitation he began with could easily be marked off as him reigning in his self control as a certain kitten mouthed at his cock.

Helping Louis along, Harry hooked a thumb in the elastic band of his boxers and pulled them down, swiveling hips a little to help push them down his thighs. “Why didn’t  _you_  end it? You had every reason to, every chance. Yet here you are, down on your knees, waiting to take my cock,” Harry smirked and, to prove his point, pulled his hips back a little only for Louis to give a soft growl and sink his claws into Harry’s hips, rooting him in place and offering the chance of blood if he dared pull away.

“You’re fun in the sac, Lou,” he went on, thumb teasing the slit of his cock as he worked it to full length, making it bob with every small movement rather than hang like a limp noodle. Collecting the small droplet of precum from the slit, Harry abandoned his cock in favor of smearing the bitter liquid across the kitten’s bottom lip, giving him a taste of what he was offering. “You know as well as I that hybrid sex is  _easily_  the best. I’d be a fool to pass it up, even with my personal feelings for you running rampant through my body every time I touch you.”

Harry had abandoned all self respect the first night he’d fucked Louis, and with that self respect, went his chance of fucking a human again. Louis was right, hybrid sex  _was_ hard to top and sex with a human became boring, unsatisfying, which is what led Harry to seeking out other hybrids online a few days ago. He had numerous lined up, wouldn’t go bored for a few months at the least, so anything and everything Louis was trying to use against him was failing _miserably_

Louis' eyes fluttered closed as he felt Harry tug on his hair. It set off a direct line of electricity traveling towards his groin. The hybrid purred, the light vibrations he sent through Harry's cock steering onto the line of just right. He purred even as he listened to Harry call him a convenient fuck and nothing more. He would never understand his need for Harry and lack of emotional preservation in being with the man like this.  
  
 _Why didn't you end it?_  
  
"Because I'm yours," it was plain and sincere, didn't have the usual smug undertone to it.  
  
Louis hated himself for the truth in his words.  
  
Before Harry could make a big deal out of it, his lips were sheathing the man's cock again with a newfound vigor. It seemed like Harry had completely missed his words as he pulled away to finger at his slit. Louis lapped at the smear of precum on his lower lip before taking Harry back into his mouth. When Harry spoke again, the boy looked up at him with wide, hurt eyes to try and discern if he was speaking the truth. Did Harry feel hatred every time his hands were on him? Every time the man touched him, was there an underlying resentment?  
  
Louis hated himself for the truth in Harry's words.  
  
And the fact that he hadn't the slightest urge to pull away at hearing them.  
  
He wanted Harry to stop talking. Wanted the reminder that Louis was willingly submitting all of himself to someone who couldn't care less, gone. He wanted it gone. With that thought borne in mind, he took Harry as far down his throat as he could and hollowed his cheeks in a quick motion. His tongue set into its task of massaging the nerve on the underside of Harry's fat cock. What he couldn't fit into his mouth, he wrapped a hand around and pumped.

Any and all will to continue this fight, to remind Louis he was  _noth_ ing to him, that there was nothing special about him or his arse of cock, disappeared with his cock down Louis' throat. Harry was willing to hold still and let the kitten take the lead, to set the pace and do what he wanted to do, but then Louis tipped his head back and with a challenging look smearing across his features, plump lips still wrapped around Harry's cock, the man realized he  _had_  to show Louis, to dominate him in every way without adding that emotional connection.

With fingers threading through Louis' hair, Harry tugged it back harshly, making glossy eyes lock with his before he grinned and thrust forward, fucking into Louis' mouth with fast, sharp thrusts. He felt the boys throat constrict and spasm around his cock, clamping around his head and holding him in place for a second before Louis inhaled through his nose and they started all over again. He wasn't sure what he found so pleasurable about it, why the fiery white licked at the bottom of his spine as it swirled in his stomach.

But as much fun as it was, it wasn't enough. He jerked back, his cock falling from Louis' mouth with a loud pop as the boy growled and followed his movements, only for Harry to hold him in place with a hand on his forehead. “Stand up,” he said with shallow huffs, stomach full of knott's as his dick pulsed along to the same rhythm as his heart. “I want to give you one last proper fucking before you leave with Liam; just to assure you won't forget that hybrids  _aren_ 't the only ones who excel at sex.” He was cocky, but it seemed when he was around Louis, it only intensified. He  _wanted_  to show off to the boy.

When Harry began to fuck his throat, Louis' glassy eyes clung to the predatory expression on his face. The boy's dick began to chub up and sweat beaded along his temples. All the while, choking from the lack of oxygen, with tears spilling off his cheeks. He was light headed when Harry jerked away, and his throat felt thoroughly charred. Louis still growled when it stopped.  
  
With slobber sliding off his chin in tiny drips, and starry eyes plastered on Harry's, he stood up obediently. His movements were floaty and it almost seemed like he was hypnotized. Harry was a presumptuous cocky asshole. That did nothing to sway the fact that Louis was bending over the arm of the couch, presenting himself to Harry to do with as he pleased- without being asked to.  
  
Sex with Harry was always rough. But this time, he was even rougher. He held Louis and fucked him like a man with something to prove. Which was pretty much the case here. Louis' hand fisted the side of the couch, mewling and moaning from everything he was feeling in the moment. The obscene sounds of his ass smacking against Harry's thighs combined with their lewd moans rang through the open room, bouncing off the walls and sounding like a recorded porn track to Louis' ears.  
  
Tears slipped down his face as Harry's tip rubbed against his prostate just right. "Har- please, right there," he groaned, fucking himself back against Harry's thrust. "Mmmh jes- ohhh," he yelled, teary eyes screwing shut, squeezing the moisture out of their corners. This felt like nothing he'd experienced before. Each time Harry took him, that's exactly how he felt. He wouldn't trade the feeling for anything in the world. Not even dignity.  
  
48 hours. The thought suddenly occurred to him as he felt the muscles in his groin tighten in warning. Harry would be done with him in 48 hours. Wash his hands clean of the boy. He'd held up some semblance of hope for them, but Harry nipped every last bit of it in the bud.

And as such, Louis was suddenly not feeling so great. He wasn't the only hybrid in the world. Heck there were so many of his kind in their city. They'd line up to be with someone as hot as Harry. But it wasn't that for Louis. Harry just- he felt... right. The boy's chest constricted at the thought that Harry would go his own way after this while Louis would go on to stay hung up on him.   
  
With a final snap of Harry's hips, Louis was cumming with a sob.

The fact that Louis cried nearly every time they had sex never really registered in Harry's head. He never considered that his minutes of fun was actually fucking with the boy beyond repair, and if he's being honest, he wasn't sure he'd care. He made it clear, time and time again, that it was just sex and though he was feeding into the budding emotions Louis felt with every single time he shoved his cock in the boys wrecked hole, he's  _never_  played it off like it was  _more._

With several sharp thrusts forward, Harry was chasing that orgasm that was dangling so tauntingly in front of him. In pure instinct, a spur of the moment thing, as soon as his cock started to jerk inside Louis as he continued pounding into him, riding himself through the orgasm, he lifted a hand and let it come down to smack the pale flesh stretched over Louis' arse. “ _Never_  forget who made you feel this good,” Harry said with a growl before he was pulling away and cleaning himself up, leaving Louis alone on the couch to deal with the cum running down the inside of his thighs.

Forty eight hours and Harry would be free of him, be free to do as he pleased with whomever he pleased. Harry wasn't Louis', nor has he ever been. The boy was a perfectly  _warm_ body, made just for Harry to use as he pleased and dump when he was bored. He could hear the scolding Liam would give him if he were to ever find out, see the disappointment on his sister's face when she'd learned he'd done it yet again, but he couldn't stop himself. He was in too deep now, was too invested with fucking with the kitten, and as fucked up as that made him, he didn't care. He gave Louis many chances to leave, and he never took them.

And as much as he hated himself for it, he couldn't bring himself to regret giving into Louis that first night. Because, hatred or not, they seemed to get along and work best when all disagreements and feelings were pushed to the back burner and they were just focused on how well their bodies fit together. How  _good_  they could make the other feel; how undone they could make the other without  _actuall_ y fucking them yet.

It was a game to both of them, even if one player was more invested than the other. 


	4. Get the Fuck Out Before I Make You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi Again (:  
> We decided to try something with this chapter. We each took a turn at writing the other person's part. So Ash wrote a few Louis paragraphs and I wrote a few of Harry's. It was to get a more personal feel for each character. I hope you like it. Things get a little more interesting in Chapter 5 onwards, so stay tuned!
> 
> This chapter starts on the tail end of Chapter 3.

Louis took a steadying breath, panicking to get his emotions under control before Harry noticed. He jerked forward on the arm of the couch, claws sinking into the leather at the hefty slap. 

‘Never forget who made you feel this good’

He _wouldn't_ forget. That much would remain true.

When he heard Harry leave the room, Louis upended himself into a resting position on the couch. He took a couple of staggering breaths, exhaling in small controlled wisps. He never should've agreed to coming here, he thought for the first time since starting to sleep with Harry. Maybe if he hadn't taken his first bite, he wouldn't know what he was missing. And he would've stayed blissfully ignorant. Without the painful marks on his pride to show for.

The rest of the day dragged on in an uncomfortable silence, Louis only spoke to Harry or entered the same room when it was absolutely necessary. The tension between them hung heavy. 

It wasn’t as if he was keeping silent, sinking in on himself when Harry entered a room, because he was afraid. He was embarrassed for giving himself to the man who so clearly didn’t want him, time and time again. 

It wasn’t until the following day that the embarrassment melted away and he was left angry, scorned, seeking blood when Harry only offered him droplets of water. Forgetting who he was, and what had taken place in the past two weeks, Louis instead sunk into himself, the previous version of him that Harry seemingly made him forget with only a few words. 

His tail flickered about vengefully. He was ready to give Harry hell. With a few moments of debate, he placed his hands on the decorative side table, throwing everything off of it with a clean swipe. When Harry came into inspect the commotion, he smiled at him darkly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he was launching himself at the man and dragging his claws down Harry’s front, successfully ruining his favorite jumper in the process. “Figured I’d leave you with a parting gift,” he whispered into Harry’s ear, biting down with his elongated fangs before he moved away.  
Louis brushed himself off fastidiously. It felt good to be _back_. To not give a shit about being good for Harry. To not care _so fucking much_ about everything. He was perfectly content sinking into his no-fucks-given attitude. A part of him knew that it was a weak defense mechanism. But if that was what it took to shut down all the hurt, then so be it. 

He was tired of being the pet Harry thought he had complete control over, and was determined to make the man realize he was so much more than just a sex toy. He was a fire Harry couldn’t put out. A force to be reckoned with. The only difference now, with his intentions, was Louis didn’t _care_ what the outcome was. He’d shut himself off and lied to make himself believe he would be fine once he left Harry, that the curly haired human’s hold on him was only as strong as he let it be. 

He simpered, walking in the opposite direction of Harry, looking far too pleased with himself as he gathered his strewn belongings and shoved them unneatly into his duffel bag. If Harry wanted to play, Louis was game, but it wouldn’t be his fault when the human realized the kitten was _far_ better at his own game. 

He hummed to himself as he went about the apartment, preparing to get back home as cheerily as he could possibly be. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince more. He wanted Harry to see that he was perfectly content in his own right. 

And he was. 

He _was_. 

Louis smiled at Harry mock-sweetly, stealing his saltine crackers and throwing them into his duffel bag. The last day spent at Harry’s place was spent well. Which basically meant Louis spent the entire day, pushing all of Harry’s buttons and getting on his every last nerve. All while adorning the smile of an angel.

Harry was sure if not for the knowledge that Liam would be here soon, and Louis would once again be out of his hair- permanently this time, hopefully, he might very well have _killed_ the kitten. He tried tiptoeing around him, wanting to pretend not everything in his loft was slowly being obliterated for the sake of keeping the last few days light, but Louis was having _none_ of it. He was set on pissing Harry off, and when the curly haired man realized that, he used every ounce of the patience he _did not have_ , to not give in and react in the way Louis wanted him to—

Until the claws sank into his chest and _dragged_ down. With his skin slicing open came an unsettling realization, and anger he could have _swore_ he has never felt before, nor knew he was capable of harboring.

He watched the kitten move around the loft, gathering his things and his complete lack of response was what finally pushed Harry over the edge. “What the _fuck_ is your problem, you—“ cutting off before he really hurt someone by calling the kitten a name he couldn’t take back, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and _breathed_. The thought of Liam settling his nerves if only a little. 

He removed himself from the situation before his anger got the better of him and drove him to homicide. Because honestly, with the way it has been building through the day, he wouldn't put it past himself. Just as he was exiting the room, there was a knock on the door. Harry sighed in relief, body unreeling from its tense knot of forced composure. He was at the door in quick strides, opening it to reveal Liam. In Harry’s head, a golden light surrounded the man like he was some sort of god-sent messiah.

Harry stepped aside to let him in, returning his glare to a bubbly Louis. _He_ was excited about Liam being here? If anyone, Harry should be the one jumping in place, swaying his hypothetical tail. Not that he would actually be capable of such mundane things. Fucking psycho cat. “So, this has been great,” Harry declared with a heavy tone of sarcasm. “Now get the fuck out before I _make you._ ”

Liam looked at Louis and then Harry hopelessly agitated. “Clearly this hasn’t done you both any good,” he muttered silently. “Well, it’s good to be back,” he said blandly, frown in place. 

Harry chuckled dryly, lacking humor as he glared at Liam. “What would have gave you that idea?” He asked before gesturing towards his chest, honest to god wondering how the fuck they even became friends. “The claw marks down my chest, or my unfiltered excitement at your return?” He gave a sarcastic snort as he grabbed Louis’ duffel bag off the back of the couch and threw it in Liam’s general direction. 

“Now take the psycho kitty with you before I strangle him with his own tail,” Harry threw a disgusted glare at Louis, keeping his eyes off the boy in fear that Liam would sense something had happened with the single glance. He wasn’t sure how to really act around Louis without worrying about Liam somehow finding out the two had boinked on every available surface in this room, and that just beneath his foot was actually a cum stain and _not_ spilled milk thought to be forgotten until it dried in thin flakes. 

Louis had a shit-eating grin the entire time. He hugged Liam, clinging to him like he was his saving grace. He’d kick his ass for this whole arrangement in his own time. Louis picked up his duffel throwing Harry an uninterested glare before looking at Liam again. “I’m going to wait in the car,” he declared, walking out of the apartment with his head held high and not a single glance back at Harry. He was so ready to be done with his shit. No matter how big the lump in his throat grew the farther away from Harry’s entrance he went.

“What happened?” Liam asked exasperatedly when Louis left the premise. He didn’t think it would be much different from the general disharmony that he pretty much expected. Harry sighed. He avoided Liam’s gaze so as not to give away any hint as to what _actually_ happened between them. “Just look around Liam. What do you _think_ happened?” He asked, voice going on the defensive.

Harry’s loft was trashed, broken wood and glass littering the floor and his shoulders were slumped in defeat, eyes tired as he gave a small shrug. There was no pretending with Liam, no hiding and if he didn’t soon get himself under control Liam would see behind his eyes, behind his sarcastic remarks and the claw marks that were all over his loft; in the walls, floor, furniture and even on Harry, some places unseen due to clothing. 

And suddenly, Harry had Liam by the throat and he was shoving him against the wall, the open door rattling at the impact as the shorter, brown eyed male inhaled sharply. “This was a bad fucking idea,” Harry growled, stance threatening as he curled his fingers even tighter, though kept them loose enough as to not actually threaten Liam’s life. 

“The next time you have some bright idea to guilt trip a friend of yours into something they clearly don’t want to do, make sure you leave me the fuck out of it. I mean it, Liam. If you so much as try this again, you’ll be shitting your own teeth for a week.” And, just for that added affect, Harry drug Liam froward before throwing him out the door, that threat being the last thing that was said between the two as Liam was shoved out into the hallway, stumbling before he hit into the wall, and Harry’s loft door was slamming shut. 

“Well clearly it _was_ a bad idea to leave Louis with _you_ ” Liam yells through the door, hand reaching up to cradle his neck. Liam walked away, severely pissed off at Harry _and_ Louis. He’s always the one coming through for any of them. They couldn’t make this work the one time he’d asked? The drive back home was silent. Liam annoyed and Louis trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions brewing in his head.

Louis sighed happily when they entered their apartment, going straight to his room. He stripped out of his god-awful smelling clothes. They smelled like Harry to the kitten’s heightened sense of smell. He threw them at the wall outside his room and shut the door with a slam. He was exhausted after his day of wreaking havoc. He got into bed and fell asleep in nothing but the bed covers. He woke up an hour later with an uninvited flare of anxiety unfurling in his chest and wracking through his entire body. Sniffling uncontrollably, Louis heaved his body off the bed and walked into his bathroom, steadying his hands on either side of the sink counter. 

After a few moments of staring at nothing, Louis raised his eyes to take in his reflection. He stared at himself with contempt, persistently wiping away the tears that tried to escape his angry, but defeated eyes. He opened his mouth to try and control his breathing, but that only earned him shudders, and soon, without an ounce of self-control, Louis’ was heaving sobs. He gasped for air, moving himself into the shower and turning it on. The water was cold and it had Louis’ hair standing, chilling to the bone. But he stood in place, scrubbing a loofah all over his skin, chafing at it, really. He closed his eyes feeling Harry’s every touch on every part of his body. He let out a pitiful sob, going at his skin with a little more vigor behind the loofah.

Louis wanted to wipe himself clean of every last trace of Harry.

He wanted to _forget_ Harry.


	5. You're mine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...I can't say anything. I don't want to give anything away with my annoying rambling, so... I'll just let you get on with it.
> 
> But, thank you so much for your feedback thus far! I have loved reading every comment we've gotten! Thank you!!!!!

Harry’s spent his time away from Louis to test out the waters, to get a sample of all the hybrid kittens he possibly could but only three weeks in and he’d found himself growing bored with them. Their backs all blurred into one, spines ridges that felt disgusting against his bare stomach. Their moans became distorted— scratchy to his sensitive ears and he was coming to the conclusion that he was broken. That, or he needed  _really_ loud music and a blindfold to help keep himself interested in the person beneath him.

It wasn’t until he found a small, sassy kitten with soft curves and a sharp tongue that he felt  _something._ With little help from his imagination, the dyed blonde hair melted away into soft tufts of chestnut, pointy ears sneaking out through parts of parted hair, and the bland brown tail that continuously swayed, hitting him in the face with every other thrust, changed to mirror the only tail Harry had ever found remotely interesting; and he refused to say  _who_ it belonged to.

Work was his safe haven, the place he could escape to where the echoes of Louis’ voice weren’t forever etched into the drywall in his home. The claw marks were still evident, still in plain sight for all to see, and the thought of having others see them too, see his dirty little secret without knowing  _who_ they were from, was oddly exhilarating.

It has been a little over a month since Harry and Louis’ last interaction, and though he  _hated_ to admit it, he was missing the kitten. Not in the whole, ‘I’ve fallen in love with you and need you by my side twenty four seven or I’ll die,’ sort of way, but more in the, ‘Other people are sexually boring and nobody can get under my skin like you do,’ sort of way. But he had his pride, and admitting that to Louis or even trying to apologize for something he  _didn’t do_  -something he didn’t know he did, for the record- would bruise that.

So, rather than doing anything like that just yet, he agreed to go to a bar with a few colleagues after work on Saturday, meaning two days from now. His hope was that he’d be able to drink enough alcohol to have some sort of excitement flutter through his veins, and that he’d somehow get the same satisfaction from sex he got from Louis, than he had with his partners following the boy.

He’d convinced himself after partner number three that Louis had done this intentionally; faked a heat just to fuck with Harry and make sure the man had little chance at finding another partner who satisfied him sexually like the small kitten did. It wasn't like Harry’s sex life had been inactive before sleeping with Louis, but since he'd gotten a taste of the forbidden fruit the boy offered, he couldn't scrub the taste off his tongue- couldn't replace it with someone else's equally tempting taste because in the end, they all ended up tasting bitter in comparison and leaving him far more dissatisfied than he was when they'd began.

Swiping a hand down his face, Harry checked his flashing phone to find yet another missed call from Liam, this one adding to the stack of thirty Harry had tallied in permanent marker on the drawer of his desk, he needed a new one anyway. Liam didn’t get the hint that he wasn’t  _interested in talking._ Harry wanted to wallow around in his self hatred, wanted to pretend Liam was the one to blame for everything that had happened because it was easier than admitting his own faults. The man with brown eyes was easy to kick around, and in Harry's fucked up mind, it all  _was_ Liam's fault. From Louis' stay, all the way down to them fucking  _then_ fighting. If he'd just taken Louis with him, none of this would have happened and Harry would still  _hate_ him.

Well, a  _lot_  more than he admittedly did now.

“Lisa!” He growled into the black phone as he held down the first button, which connected him to the woman sitting just outside his door with a small table passing off as a desk. She was his assistant, or so that’s her glorified title. Harry treated her like a slave. “I’m hungry,” he barked into the phone, tugging at the ridiculous tie he was required to wear today. “Get me a sandwich from the little shop down the street, and hurry. I have a meeting in,” checking the invisible watch on his wrist before his eyes flickered to the clock on the wall— he was an idiot some days, “thirty minutes.”

“As you wish, Mr. Styles. Can I get you anything else?” Lisa asked quietly, the timid woman tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before she glanced around as embarrassment flared brightly on her cheeks; Harry had hung up. But she didn’t expect any less from her boss. He was a bastard who treated almost no one with respect, but she admired his work ethic. He’d never once come across a case he’s lost, and could design anything he set his mind to, no flaws to be seen in his work, and he could easily perfect the faulty inventions already out on the lines. He was well respected in the city, and had built quite a name for himself for being so young.

But this past week he’d been different, she noticed as she gathered her coat and purse. He was impatient, more prone to snapping and yelling than he’s ever been. She’s worked with him for two years, and she’s never seen him in such a bad mood that lasted longer than a day. There was something wrong, and if not for the fear she held for him, she’d ask what that was; but as she said, she was perpetually terrified of him.

Tucking in her chair, Lisa chanced a quick glance at the man through the slivers of glass on either side of his door and saw him sitting there, staring at something in front of him with his head cocked. It wouldn't be until she returned with his sandwich-- only twelve minutes later which earned her a light scolding, that she'd see  _what_ he was staring at. It was a paper stapled to the wall, red and green ink smeared across the white canvas. The red was listing the cons, and green pros, with a name written at the top in black though she couldn't make out the jumbled, sloppily written letters. ‘Loms.’ On the cons side was, ‘Headache,’ and on the pros side was, ‘Headache w/ great sex.’

She pretended she read  _nothing_  as she laid everything out for him on his desk, bowed her head and quickly scurried out. She knew the kind of man Harry was, had once slept with him during an office party when they'd both been plastered-- but that didn't mean she didn't feel any less dirty. She was invading on his private life, even if he wasn't making it so private.

Her and Harry stayed late that night, the older man in a much pisser mood after his meeting that had apparently gone horribly wrong. They'd been talking about something-- more like Lisa was taking a verbal beating to help lessen Harry's load on his shoulders while her boss completely unloaded everything on her, when it happened. One minute she was being yelled at, the next her face was being shoved into the glass wall and she was being fucked from behind.

Strands of her hair were ripped out as Harry pulled at it, fisting the long strands to use as a handlebar as red smudges from the woman's lips became smeared across the glass. The janitor would have fun cleaning that mess. She wasn't sure what led to this, but she definitely wasn't complaining when she came with a choked off shriek, clutching around Harry's cock and trying to milk the man; take everything he was giving, only to be pushed away.

“Get out, now.” He ordered, and from here she was level with his swollen cock, bobbing wildly as he jerked a finger towards the door. “leave!” He yelled, and something in his voice snapped her out of her daze because with her dress still hiked up, underwear wedged on the side of her sore pussy lips, she scurried out of his office and used every ounce of dignity she had to attempt to fix her hair as she went.

Harry knew he was being unfair and harsh, should have never used her like he had, but he hadn't actually realized that until he was left staring at his thick cock, hard with veins throbbing and tip an offish purple color from the lack of orgasms he's had in the past day- not for a lack of trying. It wasn't until he wrapped a hand around himself and imagined a smaller, daintier one in its place that his breathing picked up speed, hitching in his throat as he thumbed at the slit before raking a fingernail down the underside of his member, making him shake violently as his head fell back against the chair and a strangled moan lodged itself in his throat

Then, as his hand picked up speed, wrist jerking in sync to his heavy breathes, Harry gave a hard squeeze and lost it as blue eyes blown with lust, swollen red lips turned up in a grin even with a cock stuffing his cheeks full, painted the back of his eyelids. It was a violent orgasm, even if it lacked any emotion and was dull with pleasure. His entire body still shook, cock twitching in his limp hand as it offered semen that would soon dry on the back of his hand and stain his pants.

It wasn't until he opened his eyes and his mind registered what had just happened that he made the unconscious decision to talk to Louis, if only to prove there was nothing there worth his time.

—-

Louis’ month passed without much event. His first week after getting home was a little dreary, but he bounced back to his usual self by the week after that. He started going out more, unwilling to sit at home and wallow in his thoughts. He’d repressed his feelings during the day quite remarkably, mind straying to the matter of his unrequited affections for Harry only in the daunting silence of the night. It kept him up with the threat of an anxiety episode if he chose to try and fall asleep.

So what.

He’d sleep in, the next day.

With his heat now hanging overhead, Louis’ mind was constantly at war between bringing up everything he felt with Harry and trying to flush him out of his system at the same time. One thing was for sure: Louis was happy to be away from the man. Happy to be away from the object of his self-loathing. However, a stronger part of him was sure he felt what he felt. Sex with Harry felt  _right_. The rare moments he shared with Harry with a locked gaze that went on for a moment too long-  _that felt right_. The feeling of wholeness when Harry’s body melded with his felt like it was supposed to be that way- as cheesy as it sounded  _every goddamn time_  the thought occurred to him.

Louis tried to convince himself that it was only like that because Harry was his first. He didn’t have any experience to compare sex with Harry to. That was it, he decided. He resolved to fix that soon. The boy went into his closet, picking out an outfit that accentuated his very desirable physique, and set it out for that night.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go through his next heat without the anal penetration of an actual human dick. But he didn’t really have an arsenal of options going around. The only friends Louis had was Liam, Niall and Zayn. Friends of friends he was acquainted with included Grimshaw- who was a creep, and Harry- out of the question. Why was he so closed off from the prospect of making friends? Maybe it’s time he changed that too. If only for the sake of finding himself a fuck for the end of the month. He hoped it  _would_  come at the end of the month like it was supposed to. His last heat was a fluke, showing up at a time far from the actual date it was due. It made no sense. Louis’ heats have always been completely regular since at least fourteen.

"Liam, I'm going clubbing tonight," he informed the man blandly, retreating back to his room before he had a chance to respond. Louis didn't know why exactly things had gotten so weird with Liam since he got back, but he didn't dwell on the thought too much. He'd give it a month before the man came groveling at Louis' feet with pets and cuddles and a startling amount of saltine crackers. About an hour later, the kitten boy made an appearance once again. "You're taking me," he declared this time.

"Please Li? I don't have any friends that I trust like you," he implored with a cute pout. "Not happening. I have so much to do tonight," Liam had answered.

The next hour found Louis jumping out of Liam's car in the Oasis VIP club car park with Liam and Niall at each side. He had one aim today and Louis went straight for the kill. He had two drinks. Just about enough to take the edge off his stormy mind and get him a little tipsy. He snagged the first interested guy to come his way that looked half-decent, to a corner of the club. The bloke offered him a rendezvous, a little private room action. And Louis took him up on it. It was all fine, from the get go. He was sweet enough, showing a lot of concern for Louis' comfort and taking it slow and steady.

Even when they took their clothes off, it was  _fine_. But then the older boy draped his body over Louis, whose heart started rabbiting at the sudden reminder that the other male had no brown locks to tug on. His chest didn't feel nearly as warm and his touches, all too gentle and lacking the vigor that Louis knew. Louis' breaths came out labored, and he was suddenly pulling himself away. "I'm sorry, I just- I need the loo," he said, smiling politely. "You can get dressed. I don't- I'll be awhile."

So much for going for the kill.

He'd try again.

And so he did. The next day, actually. And the next. And the day after that. Then every day of the week, and he was half-expecting to be blacklisted for leading decent blokes on until he panicked and pulled the plug on them, at the very last moment.

His window for finding someone to fuck him through his heat was also nearing its end. He needed to get his shit together. Fast. That night, he found a guy that was perfect. In pretty much every sense of the word. His name was Dylan and he was smart and kind, dominant but accommodating. Louis knew instantly that  _this_  was  _the guy_.

They chatted a while, getting to know each other before Louis made his play. Dylan grinned in amusement at the boy’s cheekiness before following him upstairs. Once inside a private room, Louis straddled the tall, well-built man, looking up at him coyly as he undid the buttons on his shirt. He let him take off his own Henley ears perking up in excitement when Dylan captured his lips in an almost dizzying kiss. He let the man maneuver him so he was hovering above Louis, slowly trailing kisses along his collarbones. "Going to make you feel so good," he promised. Louis hummed, tail flickering contentedly at how  _normal_  he felt. He nodded his approval when Dylan unbuckled his jeans. At Louis' encouragement, he peeled the skin-tights off along with the boy's panties. Louis' breathing began to accelerate at that. Dylan dipped down to kiss his lips. Reassuring. He swallowed down his discomfort, and returned the kiss with forced fervor.

But,

It felt bland.

It lacked the  _zing_  that he so craved.

Louis pushed that thought to the back burner, grabbing ahold of Dylan's neck and flipping them over so he was on the man. He smiled down at light brown eyes. There was no condescending mirth behind them. The boy watched as he eased his pants off, splaying Louis back on the bed. He felt his chest constrict. Dylan looked at Louis one more time to see if the boy was fully on board, and every bone in Louis’ body tensed up. Before he knew it, he was sniffling. Dylan’s eyes widened, pulling back to assess the situation. “Louis are you-“

“No! I’m fine. Please just- Please continue,” he begged, rapidly wiping at his eyes.

“I think we should stop and talk,” Dylan suggested in his too-light voice.

“I’m fine,” Louis gritted. “I just want you, to fuck, me,” he enunciated a little too aggressively, even as his esophagus felt like it was being crammed with blocks of cardboard. “Maybe if I um, didn’t face you?” Louis offered meekly, eyes squinting in apprehension. And he was right in doing so because Dylan’s face fell, clearly offended. “So I’m a rebound?” he asked plainly.

Nevertheless he flipped Louis onto his front and spread the boy’s legs, still as gently as ever even after Louis had pretty much screwed up before they even started. He felt fingers prod at his perineum before they delved inside. They fucked into him slowly, surely.

After making sure the boy was thoroughly prepped, Dylan fucked him. Plain and simple. He was conscious about Louis’ comfort and pleasure- going so far as to begrudgingly slow down every few minutes to check in on the upset boy. He continued each time at Louis’ behest.

Louis… well, he was happy to know that he could get this far. At least. He moaned lightly when Dylan found his prostate and nailed it head on. “You’re going to remember me by this. You’ll never forget who made you feel this good,” Dylan breathed into Louis’ ear and he just- he froze. Harry was already in his head, but now, he could hear the man speak those exact words in his rich, sinfully deep voice. “Stop!” he bellowed, pulling away.

It was really not fair. Not fair on him. Not fair on the charming bloke that looked moments away from busting his nut. First time with a hybrid, Louis presumed. Louis sunk into the pillows, staring at the beautiful man before him. He was perfect. Why couldn’t  _he_  be the one?

Louis sighed folding his hands and pressing the palms against his face. He kept them there as a tear- or two, escaped his clenched eyes. Second time in the same night.

Fuck Harry Styles.

—-

“You’ve gotta give me more than that!” Louis yelled to be heard over the blaring dance music. He grinded up against the taller male before him. Dylan chuckled at the boy before putting more energy into it. They looked like sin. In its barest essence. They owned it. Louis was shit-faced. And life was good. It had been a week after their first encounter- which went terribly at first. But when they stopped, they got to talking. Somehow Dylan became all the more attractive when he talked. So they decided they would try this again. Which brings us to the present.

Louis decided that if he was going to have sex with anyone through his upcoming heat, it would be Dylan. As long as he was on board. Which, by the looks of it, he  _definitely_  was.

Harry had once vowed to kill himself the night he couldn't get it up, couldn't please the person below him begging for his cock, doing damn near everything they could to see results; but now with that problem actually his reality, he backed out of it faster than a fuckboy does in a relationship when he starts to smell real feelings.   
  
However, tonight wasn’t about him dying, or the fact that desperation and self loathing was oozing out of his pores like sweat. It was about letting go and having fun, forgetting the kitten he'd found himself close to calling numerous times in the past day, but each time the phone began to ring, his heart would stop still in his chest and when his thumb slammed down on that red button to end everything, it was like a shock to his heart-- the electricity he needed to live.   
  
He wanted to forget everything, and each glass that he drained help him achieve his goal as this light fuzziness filled his body and he was left floating across the dance floor, grinding into passing strangers who would happily grab hold of his hips to hold him in place, only for him to slip away and move on; never staying in one place for long. He felt carefree, worries a dull throb in the back of his mind, twined with the memories of Louis with a large stamp labeled, "FORGET" locking them in place. He was always obsessing over something or another, most recently that something being a certain kitten, and the alcohol helped silence the streams of thoughts that were like fierce mantras beating away within his skull.  
  
Silk and leather clad bodies danced on the floor, in sync to the music as a light fog filtered across the dance floor. Some appeared as if they were ghosts, a memory of another person, and he swore he'd seen his own share of ghosts as he spun in circles, getting himself dizzy while also making himself believe he was free. It was a flicker of blue eyes here, or the back of a head with short brown hair there, and he swore he could hear him calling his name but when he focused past the music, he couldn’t hear anything but the wild beat of his heart.  
  
Drink after drink, song after song, he became oblivious to his surroundings and just let his feet guide the way, allowing the lights to call him like a siren and direct him towards his destination. He soon forgot the reason for his night out, his incompetence that was brought on by the ghost filtering across the dancefloor, yet those blue eyes were still branded in his memory even if he couldn’t put a face or name to them.  
  
It wasn't until he drug himself off the dancefloor and out of the arms of a particularly attractive woman that he realized he had a real problem. One alcohol wouldn't fix, or even ignoring the person who'd originally caused it. He had to face these problems head on, and coming to that decision while drunk probably wasn't the best idea ever.   
  
"I'mma fuck him," Harry slurred heavily into Eric's ear, heavy arm thrown over the shorter mans shoulders to help steady himself-- even if he refused to admit such a thing. "Fuck 'im good and make 'im," he paused as he gave a very attractive burp that reeked of cinnamon and whiskey, followed by a hiccup, "make 'im remember that I'm," ridiculous gestures as he jerked a thumb towards his chest, unsettling his balance which resulted in him leaning off to the side with Eric grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to help keep him up, "I'm fucking great. My dicks ggreaaatt."   
  
Eric, completely fucking lost to the drunk ramblings, agreed with Harry despite the wild look in the man's eyes, and helped steer him to sit down at the booth he'd watched all night-- perks of being the designated driver for the night. You were also the babysitter of tables and drunks.   
  
After coaxing a glass of water down the man's throat, and talking him into sitting at the table for half an hour to calm down, Eric was thoroughly pleased when green eyes finally met his greyish steel ones, and they were a lot clearer than they'd been before. "So," Eric began with a smirk as he mouthed at the thin red straw sticking out from his diet coke, "who were you going to fuck with your 'greaaattt cock?"   
  
With a roll of his eyes, Harry pushed up from the table, having not the slightest clue as to what the fuck Eric was on about, and swiped a glass of beer off the tray of a passing woman who was too interested in her phone to notice. "Nobody," he said, not that he could actually fuck somebody, even if he wanted to. "Ah, fuck off and go suck a Dick," Harry barked when the man simply grinned.   
  
Chugging the beer, which included the nasty foamy bit that always kicked his gag reflex into gear, Harry slammed the glass on the table. "Have you seen Li--" he was cut off by this giggle-- sounding all too fucking familiar as every single hair on his body stood, accompanying his rolling stomach.   
  
He didn't need to know who would be there when he turned around, didn't think he'd need to prepare himself for what he was about to see... But he was a fucking stupid idiot. Louis was air fucking some man-- a rather attractive looking man, and he was giving him that goddamned look. But no, fuckfaces, it was not jealousy stringing Harry's muscles, pulling then taut as he froze. It was... It was dis-- "Louis!" And holy fuck, he was speaking.

Louis pouted cutely, turning around in an unsteady swirl, his hazy vision spinning with him. He looked on, eyes taking a moment to focus on brown locks and green eyes. angry green eyes. Louis hiccuped. “Look Dilly,” he said pointing excitedly. “Looks like Harry,” the boy giggled, stumbling forward giddily and tripping on a ridge in the ground. Dylan sprung to action, catching Louis with a strong arm around his waist.

“Oops,” Louis said and brought his hands to cover his mouth, looking very much like a guilty kitten-child. A charming smile fell into focus, and for a brief moment, Harry look-alike was forgotten. Dylan stood the boy upright and took him to sit by the bar counter. “You need some water. And a moment to calm the fuck down,” Dylan chuckled.

As they approached, Louis stumbled on towards  _Harry?_. “You  _aaare_  Harreh” he slurred, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and straddling the man, stumbling a little as he climbed onto his lap. “I hate you,” he informed matter-of-factly, lapping at a nearly healed laceration along the side of Harry’s neck. “Are you following me?” he asked, a dopey smile on his face. “Because if you are, you should know…” Louis began, seemingly losing track of where he was going with that. He pursed his lips, going limp against Harry’s body, tired now. “Dilly, water?” he chirped sweetly, the other man already on it.

“You,” he said jabbing at Harry with an elongated claw. “could learn a thing or two from  _that_  guy,” he said, meaning to gesture at Dylan, but pointing at a tall bottle of Vodka instead.

“I like Dylan,” he told Harry conversationally like catching up with a friend. “Dylan is nice. Can’t have sex with him though because…” he paused to think. “Because of you!” Louis accused, lips falling into a quivering pout, and eyes sparkling with drunken tears.

Any other day, any other scenario, and Harry would have been pissing himself with laughter as the drunk kitten sauntered his way before mistakenly assuming he was welcomed in the drunk mans arms. Yet, said drunk man made no effort to move him. A shiver betrayed Harry’s seemingly sober thoughts, wants, and he unconsciously leaned in closer, chasing the tongue drunk him wanted so desperately, but sober him despised.

With hooded eyes following every move of his doppelgänger, picking out all of his obvious flaws like his crooked nose and pointed chin, looking more as if it was a hat rack, Harry wrapped an arm around Louis’ waist to taunt the male and smirked. “And why is that,  _kitten?_ ” He purred, hand slipping past the impossibly tight waistband of Louis’ skinny jeans to find a puckered hole, already wet from a simple murmur, addressing him by a name he's found drives the boy  _wild._ “Can’t fuck you good? Properly?” Thankful Liam had decided to stay at home this evening, or at least the man had said he wanted a quiet night in when Harry had invited him after blowing off his pride and admitting Liam did nothing wrong— Harry traced a finger around Louis’ hole and stared up at the other man with hooded eyes.

“Doesn’t he know you’ve already staked your claim? Can’t be owned by anybody else, nor own anyone else?” Harry was having a blast watching as the man, who’s name he thinks is Dan, filed through emotions, flickering back and forth between anger and jealousy before one dominated the other and his eyebrows drew together, nostrils flaring with a glare etching into his imperfect skin— and hello, he didn’t even have dimples? What kind of look alike was he?

Turning face to mouth at Louis' neck, dragging a slick tongue across his pulsepoint, Harry hummed when his body reacted to the boys natural taste and began to  _thrum_ with awareness; want. A hand moved to cup the back of Louis' head, fingers tugging at the the hairs at the nape of his neck. This-- fucking with someone by staking a claim over someone who wasn't even  _his_ , was  _fun._ So much more so when Harry flicked Louis' earlobe with his tongue, eyes glued on the strange man stood gawking rather than reacting, and  _finally_  earned a reaction as ugly Harry's fingers curled into a fist.

Louis lost himself to the sensations he so desperately has been wanting to feel for so long now. He whimpered, ready as ever to let Harry have his way with him, but then… The boy blinked, stopping Harry abruptly. “No,” he whined. “Don’t want you. Like Dylan,” he sniffled, arms reaching towards the other man. He could smell… others on Harry’s skin. Hybrids and human alike. It made a spark of hurt flare up Louis’ insides. “Let go,” he squirmed as much as his boneless body would allow him.

It was definitely a hard feat considering how much at peace he was feeling for the first time, this entire month. Even in his drunk state it occured to the boy that it was not incidental. A primal part of him- his instinct-driven animal psyche recognized Harry and settled down in his presence. Endorphins zapped through him at the close proximity and the smell of Harry- hidden beneath the ugly mix of his partners’. He felt his anger flare up again at the thought.

He wanted to tell Harry he’d been fucked good. What he didn’t want the man knowing is that Louis’ biology seemed to fight it every step of the way. Before he could share excessive details, he saw his date curl a fist in his hazy peripheral. He took that moment to scramble off of Harry and hug Dylan. “‘S okay. Just need to get... undrunk,” he giggled, running a hand up and down Dylan’s muscular back. “Can you get me undrunk?” He asked the older man, leaning into his body to steady himself.

Dylan wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist, cocking his brow at Harry challengingly. “Just, just sit here Louis. And work on getting yourself hydrated, hm?” he mumbled to the boy, holding the bottle rim to his mouth. “The fuck are you looking at, mate?” He clipped at Harry.

Harry raised a hand in mock surrender, feigning innocence as he popped his finger into his mouth and sucked, eyes damn near rolling as Louis' flavor flooded his entire body. “A poorly reflective mirror one would expect to see in a haunted house,” he said with a curl of his lip, on the verge of snarling as every ounce of his being fought to stay sat rather than pouncing onto Dan-- not that he wasn't tempted to.

The man gave a cocky grin and pulled Louis in closer to his side, almost as if he was proving to Harry he'd won and the kitten had made his final decision, but drunk Harry  _didn_ 't like that. He was up for a challenge, even one he was guaranteed to win in the end. Rising to an unsteady stance, floor momentarily swaying as black swamped his vision, Harry grabbed the edge of the table for support before he attempted his best dazzling smile, though it was more of a grimace as the swaying was kicked up a notch and he suddenly felt like he was on a tilt a whirl that was on crack; speed amped up about a hundred notches. And a part of him  _knew_ it wasn't the alcohol. His body was reacting to Louis, overwhelmed as a month of suppressed emotions came flooding back,  _finally_  having a chance to be felt.

And he wasn't prepared to feel the possessive clench of his heart, paired with the unflattering flutter of jealousy deep in his stomach. “Louis,” he snapped, a dominance he wasn't aware he harbored straightening his spine as he took a step towards the kitten quickly approaching sober-town. “What--” he wasn't aware  _what_  he wanted to say as he growled in frustration and flicked cautious eyes up to the ugly douche. “Look at me,” he ordered, “look at me and tell me you don't  _want me,” that you don't still believe that ridiculous idea that we're mates_ , he added with a silent thought, unsure if he even wanted those feelings to still exist.

“I do want you,” he stated drily.

He wasn’t going to bother denying what Harry was asking him to. It was too evident in all the signs his body was putting out. They all knew Louis wanted Harry. He had made his feelings about the man clear to Dylan, wanting to let him know exactly what he was walking into by agreeing to get Louis through his heat. As for Harry, he knew full well that Harry knew Louis was feeling a gravitational pull towards him. The man wouldn’t test it if he thought there was the slightest chance of being rejected. Harry had his pride.

It was pointless trying to cover up facts that were clear as day.

“Don’t see how that’s relevant though, because clearly you’ve found other hybrids to fuck,” he spat. Louis finished off one water bottle and asked the cute bartender for another before turning back to Harry.

"And just for the record, Dylan looks nothing like you," he defended, scowling at Harry looking the part of the pissed off kitten that he very much was. "Now, tell me what my answer changes?” aside from inflating Harry’s planet-sized ego.

When all he got in return was a shit-eating grin, and amused eyes watching silently as Louis worked himself up, the boy huffed. He was so ready to be done with this conversation.

"I don't have the stamina for this, Harry. Spent it all on grinding on this beautiful man right here," he said, patting Dylan's pectorals, curious to know if  _that_  got a reaction out of his  _not-mate_.

"Dylan, clearly, the ogre has set his mind on ending our night short.”

"You can leave. This will take awhile," he muttered with a disinterested sigh.

It felt great to disrespect Harry like this, right in his face. After almost two weeks of being near perfectly submissive for him, only to have that thrown in his face the moment Harry was done fucking him, Louis was entitled to this. Dylan left them with a hug and an uncertain stare locked on the smaller kitten-boy.

"Now,” Louis said in his  _handling_  voice as he reverted his attention to Harry.

“You clearly want something. If it's sex, I'm on board under one condition." He dove straight to the point with no reservations.

A man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, was dangerous when fueled with alcohol and faced with a situation when he was finally being denied something he wanted. Shouldn't it be reversed? Shouldn't Louis be the one begging for Harry, groveling at his feet as he thrust his ass in the air, presenting himself to Harry as the heat consumed everything he was, pushed everything he knew away until all the kitten could chant was Harry's name...   
  
Which, actually, didn't sound like that bad of an idea.   
  
"Tell me, Louis," Harry said with a characteristic grin, screaming cockiness and confidence as he saddled up right next to Louis. "If you truly believe I'm an ogre, and Danny there was your Prince charming, why stay with me? The beast?" He flashed his teeth in an predatory grin, animalistic instincts prodding beneath his skin and begging to be set free.   
  
With the music still a loud thump, dance floor even more alive now than it had been mere minutes ago, Harry glanced around to make sure they would remain unbothered in their secluded corner before he ran a skilled hand down Louis' torso, smoothing over the flat span of his tummy, and finished the little tour with an aggressive growl as he curled his fingers around Louis' cloth covered cock, feeling it stir at the slightest touch and Harry grinned-- he still had all the power. Louis was just fighting him, pushing him away with his damned conditions-- fuck them.  
  
Leaning in so his breath was hot against Louis' neck, Harry palmed at his growing length and placed a gentle kiss on his adams apple. "Unless you're afraid he won't be able to please you like me," the sudden rigidness that shot through Louis' body was a tell-tale sign, Harry had struck a nerve. "Unless you've already tried it?" He egged on, placing a trail of kisses down his collarbone as his hand picked up speed.   
  
"He isn't me, Louis," Harry snarled as his teeth nipped at the smooth skin stretched over protruding collarbones. "Nobody can fuck you like me-- fill you like me, please you like me." He was high on his ego, drunk with cockiness and hesitant as the sober part of him fought against the mental barricades he'd carefully put up. He knew better than to fuck with Louis like this. He should let him be, let him move on with the fancy douche, but a stronger part of Harry refused to let him walk away; burned with a possessive fire with no actual destination or starting point so it was left to sizzle in his heart, boiling his blood at the mere thought of someone else having Louis, claiming him like Harry had claimed him.   
  
There may have been men before him, and men after him, but after tonight, he would fight to the death before allowing Louis to sleep with another male.   
  
And if that didn't answer the larger part of questions he's been asking himself since they'd first had sex, then nothing would. "You're mine," he growled in a choked, cut off breath, before adding for extra measure, "for the night."   
  


Louis’ eyes widened as the man trailed a strong, meaningful hand along his body right there, at their spot at the bar. The familiar warmth of Harry's palm traveled down with fervor. Teasing. Threatening. Louis sunk his teeth into his lower lip, eyes falling shut. His body fully welcomed this, ecstatic with a feeling of a single hair grazing his stomach lining to show for. Feelings he didn't feel and could not force with his...  _experiments_  outside Harry. Louis' defense front melted away as he all but sank into his touch. His cock grew under the man’s possessive hold, impossibly turned on by the pure, undiluted aggressiveness he was showing.  
  
Louis mewled.  
  
His spine tingled with the need to submit.  
  
Instead, he pulled away.  
  
“St-stop,” the boy stammered when Harry placed a trail of kisses along his collarbone. “You haven’t heard my con… mmhh—” he trailed off in a puddle of fiery arousal, his mental resolve floating away from reach.

  
He wrapped his legs and arms around Harry, heart plummeting to his feet when he was suddenly hanging in mid-air.

  
"Where a'we going?" He asked. Louis didn't actually care much. As long as he was getting a good dicking right the fuck now, he was a happy boy. He lapped at Harry's angular jaw with kitten-licks. All the while being swayed side to side on their way to wherever the fuck Harry was taking them.  
  
"This is creepy."  
  
They were in an unlit corridor, away from the blaring music and strobe lights. Before Louis could talk any further, his jeans were being peeled off. He could barely see the lines of Harry's features. The distant sound of club music started to sound farther away when he felt lips crash against his in an all-consuming, almost punishingly rough kiss. He whined when the other man's teeth bit into his soft lower lip, dick perking up in interest at the slight sting. He was slammed against a surface, and there were lips on his collarbone now, sure to bruise by the end of the night. It sent him into a frenzy. His groin hurt with the pool of intense sensations gnawing around it.

He let his head fall against a hard surface, breathing hard and watching Harry with glassy eyes. No one could make him feel like this except  _this_  man. Why was he so set on having nothing to do with Louis when he was done fucking him? Louis could see the traces of an annoyed glare before he was suddenly being slammed onto his front. His hands shot out to keep his face from being slammed against the surface. His panties fell around his ankles and the shirt was ripped off his shoulders.

Harry attacked every available inch he could, sucking and biting his way across Louis' body as he worked them both up, poked and prodded at the fires pooling in their stomachs until he was on the verge of melting into the boy, merging their bodies, mind, and souls… But before he could allow that, before he slipped past that point of never coming back, of completely losing himself in the body he'd spent the past month searching for in strangers, he was turning Louis around and lining himself up, offering a one worded growl before he thrust up and in, claiming the warm heat as his own for the night, “mine!”

The fuzzy lining the alcohol brought cleared, the thin, nearly transparent tendrils that had been holding him up and steady, keeping him in the present rather than allowing him to float away and disappear into nothing, dissolved and soon enough, he was losing himself in Louis. Tracing soft flesh, memorizing the dips and curves of his body, the angles and planes that forms the definition of perfect in his… Drunk (okay) mind. With the fear that this was it, this was the last time he could have the kitten like this, truly have him without the fear of tomorrow, Harry was relentless while also taking his time to liter marks, ranging in size and color (though all would remain for at least a few days) across Louis' neck and shoulder. It was mark of possession, showing anyone else who dared touch Louis that he'd already been claimed. He was  _owned_.

The possibility of someone walking down the corridor, of finding them and bursting their adolescent filled bubble, only added fuel to his high, adrenaline mixing with the addictive drugs that Louis was made up of. And unlike their previous nights together, where Louis lost himself first into the feeling and came completely undone, both were too wound up and desperate to hold out any longer and they came in unison, a cry falling from Louis' lips that rang with happiness and relief in Harry as the older man buried his head in the back of Louis' neck, muffling any and all sounds he was bound to make as every single muscle in his body unraveled and he was sagging into the wall, wrapping himself around Louis in every way he possibly could without removing his softening penis, not wanting to break that connection just yet.

For the first time in a month, he was content, sedated,  _happy,_ and he would be fucking stupid to ever let this go again. 


	6. I Want You, But You Don't Get Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this happened :>
> 
> Here's Chapter 6.

‘Mine,’

The word was an echo trapped on repeat in the confines of Louis’ mind.

And it rang true.

It rang true in every sense of the word that mattered.

Louis wished he could change that, but it was out of his control at this point. Harry had effectively staked his claim the first time that he _took_ him. Made it so that Louis couldn’t be with anyone without the itch that screamed everything he was missing. Everything that wasn’t _Harry_. He belonged to the man. Even if Harry refused to belong to him. It was unfair. But it was true.

He knew that when they came down from their highs, the fantasy of the moment would be replaced by a Harry who didn’t give a fuck about him. They were to go their own ways and he’d be getting through his heat with a more-than-willing Dylan, but craving Harry every step of the way. And Harry wasn’t going to be there. Harry was only around to _take_ from Louis.

And at some point, the novelty of all of this was going to fizzle out and Louis wouldn’t have much of him left to _give_ anymore.

That was the reality of this situation.

Still, Louis _hoped_.

“Dylan’s getting me through my next heat.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Didn’t think Harry cared. And he certainly didn’t owe Harry that information. He still felt obliged to say it.

He turned around with a little discomfort from the rough-fucking. His body felt heavy, but his vision was light. All the sounds around him were mellow, and he was sated. He sighed. A craving so profound and strung out having finally been gratified. Before Harry could pull away, he fell into his hold, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck and smiling at the scent. Harry’s _own_ scent was strongest there. Wasn’t diluted with the hideous scents of other humans and hybrids.

“I’m going to go,” he said into the thick silence around them, but didn’t make any actual move to leave.

The air was thick with Louis, even in the dark as Harry's senses struggled to grasp onto everything the boy was, wishing more than anything that the scent didn't have to compete with the repugnant stench of cigarette smoke, sweat, and booze. Too lost in the fantasy land his thoughts have fled to, Harry wrapped arms around Louis, one around his waist to anchor him to his body, and the other around his shoulders to really meld their bodies together, to solidify his brains false thought that they _needed_ to be together, like this, forever. 

"Mm," Harry hummed, unconsciously rocking their bodies to the mellow song a faint murmur in the background, floor slightly vibrating. Down the stretched hallway, through the blurry lights and smoke, he could see all the bodies pressed together, drunkenly swaying as the night caught up to them. "He isn't doing any such thing."

His brain was lying to him, too muddled with Louis to really register what he was saying but when the boy moved to pull back, pulling him from his cloud nine, he was all too aware of everything he'd said, of everything Louis had said. "I'll be the one fucking you through your heat," he said, tone clipped as he pulled back altogether. 

Frustrated with himself because here he was again, running them around in the same circle without really speaking his true intentions or wants. "I want _you_ , but you don't get _me." Was he making sense?_

Kitten ears perked up in interest until Harry continued.

Louis sighed then.

“Is _that_ how this works?” he asked flatly, gaze dropping to his feet.

“No.”

The boy surprised himself with the levelness he responded with.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, talking about a lot more than what was evident. “When you fuck me through my next heat, I’m only going to find it harder to get through the one after that. And if I can’t have you then, I don’t want you now. I don’t need you,” he lied through his teeth. He needed to think about preserving his feelings in the long run. And as much as his body needed Harry, keeping this door open would fuck him up emotionally and psychologically.

“I’m going,” he said again, this time actually pulling himself away from Harry and pulling his clothes back on. He stared at him for a few moments. The stillness of the night keeping him there, unwilling to end the moment they were sharing before he turned and left. He found his blonde Irishman stripping out of the last article of clothing on him. Louis dragged him away from the table, exasperatedly forcing him to get his clothes back on. On any other night, he’d try to catch it on camera and make it go viral- _and_ send a tape to Niall’s mum.   
He spotted their DD, Michael, Louis thinks his name was. A friendly Australian bloke with a bright, bold hair color that Niall knew from work.

With a few words exchanged between Michael and his apparent new _friend_ , they were out of the club and on their way.

He lugged his boneless lump of a body into his shared apartment, yelling in mortification at the sight of an undressed Liam and Zayn looking at him startled. One ‘happily’ married, and the other engaged to be married in t minus three months. He put his arms up, stopping both of their hurried explanations. “Don’t care,” he stated blandly and walked in. He’s had a pretty eventful night as is. “Oh, this is new,” he mused, inspecting a hideous glass ornament and tipping it off of the tall stand it was placed on, on his way to his bedroom. It was unusual to find any glass objects around the house nowadays. Peculiar thing, that sure was.

He dropped into bed unceremoniously, not bothering with changing into something more comfortable for the night. He was done with today. A brighter tomorrow was on the horizon.

Harry remained silent as Louis walked away, unable to force the words out of his throat that his heart was desperately screaming with each beat. He didn't want Louis to leave, but he did. He wanted to fuck him through every single heat, but he couldn't, not without belonging to the frustrating kitten in a way Harry has _never_ belonged to anyone. With a shallow thump of his heart echoing in the tips of his fingers, matching the ragged breath he took in through chapped lips, lungs screaming for _more_ , he watched Louis walk away; watched him leave with the stupid fuckface he'd came with, and Harry could do nothing but watch. 

With heavy limbs that dragged behind him with the intent of _following_ Louis, he stumbled out the back-door and into a dark alleyway, a poor excuse of a street lamp illuminating a yellow glow that barely touched the damp, stained asphalt with trash littering it. He wasn't aware of what he was doing, just walked with his head down until he found himself standing in front of his loft door nearly an hour later, keys a sharp lump in his pocket that had continuously stabbed his thigh on the walk. But he didn't want to be _here_. It reeked of _Louis._

Sucking up what little pride he had left, Harry unlocked the door and pushed it open, eyes squeezed shut with a strong defiance, refusing to give in and allow himself to see the barely there, hallucinations of a Louis rimmed with the brightest white light floating around his loft, memories from nights he didn't want to remember. 

If he couldn't have Louis, the parts of him that he craved, then he didn't want _any_ of him. Harry passed out in his bed that night, stripped of all bedding and pillows because, even after all the washes, it still stunk like Louis, of his sweet slick and even sweeter natural musk, lined with that faint vanilla that was strongest at the curve of his neck. 

Louis was the furthest thing from his conscious mind, but was the main event that graced his dreams. 

.

“ _No—_ ”

It was a long strung out whine that left the boy when he woke up in a pool of hot slick.  
It had been two days since his run-in with Harry. And again, the arrival off his heat was terribly off its mark. Louis refused to believe those facts were interconnected. Coincidences happen.  
With one agonizing flash of heat going through his body, all coherent thought left him and he was screaming in garbled sounds. A half-asleep looking Liam came rushing into the room startled, followed by Zayn. Louis didn’t appreciate the audience as his body began to writhe vehemently.

“Lou, A-Are you going into heat?” Liam shouted. “Already?”

Fucking Liam wasn’t very bright, apparently. What did it _look_ like if not a heat. He was covered in his goddamn slick.

His urge to throw something off his nightstand at the man was overpowered with the need to claw at his own skin. To their credit, both men looked positively intoxicated. Although they had their self-control. It occurred to Liam as a distant thought- pushed aside in the urgency of the moment, that Louis’ scent had changed. There was a faint trace of an added blend to it.

“Do you need your toys?!” Liam asked steadily as he reached the foot of the bed, restraining himself from reaching out to soothe the boy. 

“W-won’t work,” he cried, digging his claws into the thick mattress.

“Dylan,” he breathed in between rough pants.

It took awhile but Dylan was shortly in his apartment, staring at Louis confoundedly as his hands trembled in his attempt to take his clothes off.

Louis did all he could to not ream him out, and tell him to get the fuck on with it.

His body was practically burning. It felt like his organs were melting with each flash of undiluted pain his heat brought on every few minutes. He sobbed, looking at the other male impatiently. He was finally situated, but his touches, his hold, nothing felt right. Nothing made it _go away_. He got into place and fucked Louis, watching the boy precariously as he did, and Louis wanted to scream his agony. He felt like no one could get it. No one would know the intensity of the pain consuming him. 

“Please,” he begged Dylan helplessly as the man snapped his hips harder, trying to do anything to help the boy convulsing violently on the bed before him.

It felt like his body was rejecting the man.

Louis resembled a mare out of control. And Dylan couldn’t hold him down firmly the way Harry did and fuck him senseless. His touch couldn’t do anything to soothe the anguished boy the way Harry’s did.

His scent…

Louis’ eyes prickled with a sudden onslaught of tears.

Harry’s scent…

_Harry’s scent._

He needed Harry’s scent.

Needed Harry wrapped around him, holding him down like he was meant to be locked under him, helpless, defenseless, and fucked raw.

He needed Harry, he realized with a broken cry.

Just as the thought registered, his body reached a boiling point, and Louis couldn’t help the scream that ripped through him, probably reaching every neighbor in a mile radius. It clearly was enough to have Liam barging through his bedroom door, poised for attack in case this Dylan fellow had anything to do with it.

“Please,” Louis breathed “I- Harry,” he said the name in a whisper.

“Need Harry,” He repeated weakly.

Something was wrong, so very fucking wrong as Harry rolled over in his bed, sheets saturated with sweat and a very uncharacteristic whine falling from his lips, which were chewed raw as he fought the need to rut against the mattress. His body was on fire, too hot while his blood ran cold and he couldn't do anything to stop the pain that came like sharp blades to his gut, dragging down his torso before finally relenting when they were just about to reach his groin. 

His hair was a matted mess, glued to his forehead with sweat and it wasn't until this god awful sensation began in his stomach, that ended with Harry feeling as if his body was turning inside out, that he was able to untangle himself from his sheets and stumble out of his bedroom. The sudden shrieking of his ringing phone was like a siren, drawing him closer and if it wasn't for the fact that he thought he was dying and honest to god needed an ambulance, he would have bypassed the phone. 

“Li-” Harry couldn't finish his sigh of relief, tangled with Liam's name, because said man was cutting him off. 

“H-Harry. I need you to get over here. Louis- he, I don't know what's wrong with him, mate. He said he needs you?” Liam sounded frantic, fear lacing his every word. But the name had done _something_ to Harry, somehow made his heart flip while also having his stomach drop into a pit of acid, a scream flinging itself up his throat but with a small exhaled breath, he managed to stop it. 

“I- okay. I'll be there.” He hung up the phone, and by some fucking miracle, he was able to locate his car with his darkening vision, and speed to Liam's without any incidents.

Getting inside the loft was a completely different story, because as soon as he reached Liam's floor, looking like a deranged madman no doubt, he was being drawn towards the door while the pain also intensified by a million. The door was unlocked when he finally made his stumbled walk towards it, and when nobody was there to let him in he took it upon himself to swing the door open only to regret it as soon as he did. 

Louis' scent hit him, and with that single breath he took in _everything_ became clear. With another small breath of Louis, of his scent that smelt so _right_ with _so_ many wrong undertones, he was able to compose himself enough to walk down the hallway without stumbling like a drunk fool. “Harry! Thank god you're here.. He just, look at him! He won't let me take him to the hospita---”

“Louis.” Harry said in a soft tone, barely audible above Liam's rambling nonsense, but it was enough. Just that single word, said in that soft tone, with just the right amount of rasp and authority, while also being so _gentle_ as the tongue caressed his name, had the convulsions stopping. Blue eyes, bloodshot and scratched with tears, locked with Harry's and everything else seemed to melt away, as cliche as that was. 

Louis melted into the bed, centered by the calm green of Harry’s eyes. He whimpered when Harry was in reach, trembling arms stretching to wrap around his neck and pull him in closer. His scent, as always, had a soothing effect on the boy. He just took a moment to breathe Harry in. His sobs were now quickly subsiding, replaced with gentle shudders as he held onto the man like a lifeline.

“Harry,” he began, mouth quivering as it stayed open, trying to find the right words. He didn’t have to. Harry was shushing him, bringing a hand to caress the trembling boy. Their audience stood, watching on in bafflement. Trying to make sense of what the _actual_ fuck was happening.

It was lost on Louis who seemed all too caught up in the tender moment.

Harry however, definitely couldn’t handle the near tangible feeling of curious eyes set on them.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he snapped. “I’m leaving if you’re all just going to stand there gaping.” Louis whined at that, hold around Harry tightening with his claws slightly sinking into the man. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to be a threat.

The two other men left the room, leaving Liam to stare at them both, realisation just setting in.  
It all clicked into place, with everything unraveling before him.

Louis lay back, teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of his lips. He needed Harry _now_. He stared at Liam until he hesitantly left the room with a stoic face, giving away nothing. Soon, Harry was ridding himself of his clothes with a few tugs on his shirt and trouser from Louis. He was a whimpering, writhing mess. When Harry’s raging cock came into view, Louis all but sighed in relief.

“Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Without _any_ mercy” he hissed into Harry’s ear, tail wrapping around the man possessively.

He didn’t have to wait a moment longer as Harry teased his head against his entrance before he bottomed the fuck out with no further warning, without a breath to spare. Louis lost it, letting out a depraved moan that truly had no business being anywhere outside a perverse porno. His brain was a muddled web of _Harry Harry Harry_. Harry’s dick penetrating him with no give, Harry’s scent pulling him into a world of tranquility. Harry’s body warmth that he felt even through his own blazing skin. How the _fuck_ did that make sense? To be fair, nothing made sense when it came to Harry. It just _happened_.

He rutted against the man, realizing distractedly that he’d made no move to turn him around.

Yet.

He reveled in that rarity, eyes fighting to stay opened just so he could catch the unfathomably satisfying sight of Harry coming undone, completely lost in the feeling of tight walls clenching around his thick, neglected rod.

Harry wanted to run away and hide, to never return so he doesn’t have to feel the raw vulnerability tearing apart his chest, but in the same breath he wants to stay put and watch, to witness as Louis comes apart beneath him; the poor things already a withering mess, a lump of moans and pretty little groans, and they’d barely even moved. 

Arms barricaded Louis before Harry had another second to think, keeping the kitten from wiggling side to side, _holding_ him in place and successfully squishing that insistent voice in Harry’s head telling him that Dylan was going to come back, that he was going to take Louis and with the kitten thoroughly closed off, blocked from anyone else’s view, that possibility was next to impossible. 

The body arched beneath his as the curly haired man palmed at squishy thighs, pushing them further apart until they parted completely, giving Harry more room to wiggle forward; cock nudging impossibly deeper into Louis. And then they were both lost, both giving into the suffocating intimacy of the moment and though Harry felt like he couldn’t breath, like this was all too much while also being not enough, he _couldn’t_ close his eyes, couldn’t tear them off of Louis as he pounded into him with deep and effortless thrusts. 

The two, together, created the sickeningly beautiful sound of flesh on flesh that echoed throughout the otherwise quiet room, effortlessly masking the faint voices filtering in through the semi-thin walls from the obnoxiously loud tv show Liam was watching— though now that he thinks about it, there’s probably a very _good_ reason the tv is so loud. 

Harry looked so unhinged, undone, a little out of control and for the moment, like Louis was the center of his universe. He was focused on the kitten and riding him through this, on making him feel better while also laying claim and _marking_ him with his scent. An animalistic growl ripped his throat raw as Harry picked up the speed, erasing any thoughts of other men being with Louis because, quite frankly, they were pushing him towards a corner of his mind he didn’t want to be in right now, a corner he had no control over. 

The kitten comes, the milky hot semen splatters between their two bodies as Harry milks the boys cock with a few rough tugs, and when that same fiery feeling twirls around Harry’s body, urging him over that edge, he bows his head to mouth along Louis’ jaw, leaving purplish bruises as he kisses his way down the pale span of his neck and buries his face in the crook, where the scent is the strongest. 

A hand slid beneath his hip, pulling him into every thrust, the crush of Harry’s stomach against Louis’ flaccid cock only working to rile the kitten up, making him hard and Harry has yet to even come. He kissed the kitten with yet another growl, the smooth slide of his tongue and cock matching rhythm and finally, he was coming, white exploding through his blown pupils that were locked on Louis, drinking in the way the boys face scrunched up, mouth open as a silent scream dies there, on his tongue that still tasted of Harry.

Louis’ body was a lump of jello as he stared at the vision that was Harry Styles cumming. His pupils were blown wide, and cheeks a mottled pink. He looked delirious. Harry’s hair fell around his face in haphazard ringlets. ‘Beautiful’, was the only word that Louis seemed to know in that moment. The boy was already growing hard again from the weight of Harry’s mid-body rubbing against his cock, coupled with the constant state of arousal his heat brought about. The sight of Harry now…

It was the cherry on top.

He was _sin._

Louis wanted to devour every last bite.

The boy’s hand tugged at his cock languidly as he watched Harry come down from his high. His lip flushed red with how much he’d been chewing on it. In a quick movement, his legs were wrapping around the man’s waist, locking in place behind his back. Toppling them so they were each laying on their sides, he pressed his cock firmly under Harry’s sensitive length, deciding to keep his urges at bay as he just stared at the man for a few moments.

“Don’t leave”

It was said in a whisper.

Quiet enough to suggest that Louis almost didn’t want Harry to catch it.

He didn’t want to be rejected.

Not again.

The boy’s arms wrapped around Harry’s chest, holding onto him like he was afraid the man would decide to get out anytime now. His body scrambled to pull himself closer to Harry, resting the side of his face against his broad chest. “Don’t think I can get through another wave by myself. Felt like I was dying. Almost wanted to.”

He wanted Harry’s body barricading his again. Wanted to be underneath him, feeling like he was the center of Harry’s world. He wanted it to be like that all the time. But Louis _knew_ that was asking a lot. A lot that the man in front of him wasn’t capable of giving him. His eyes fell away from Harry, and he sucked his upper lip in between his teeth. It was the best he could do to not look like the unhinged mess of emotions that he really was.

Maybe it was his mind trying to shut itself down to spare him the panic of Harry leaving, he was tired. _So_ tired. All he wanted to do was close his eyes.

But then in a voice that sounded like the calm before a storm,

“Why won’t you give this a chance?”

No answer came in the next two minutes that it took for Louis to drift.

_Why won't you give this a chance?_

The question played on repeat in Harry's head, a broken record of an equally as broken voice scratching away at his ear drums, stabbing needles into his heart, demanding to know _why_ he _wouldn't_ give it a chance. He now knows leaving is impossible, and not only painful for Louis but himself as well. The episode at his loft was only proof of that, a small taste of what's to come if he continues to deny the fucking spark between the two of them, the fire that will turn into a wildfire if ignored and burn the two alive before they can realize their stupid, stupid mistake. 

And, truth be told, Harry _knows_ why he won't give it a chance, a real chance that doesn't just involve them fucking, and it's because he doesn't want to get _close_ to anyone. Not again, at least. 

Unwrapping Louis from him with careful movements, Harry scooted to the edge of the bed and quickly pulled on his discarded boxers before he tiptoed out of the room, in need of not only some fresh air, but a drink as well. Preferably alcoholic. “Not now, fuckface. I need a drink before I have to listen to your badgering.” Harry said to the man as he passed the living room, glaring when he saw all three men were watching him like he was walking across fucking water. So, a guy couldn't just show up and fuck a guy he claims to hate without being looked at weird or questioned? What the fuck. 

Pulling open the small liquor cabinet Liam keeps in the living room, Harry grabbed the closest bottle to him and, despite his nose wrinkling when he saw vodka in clear, black letters, he unscrewed the cap and took a _large_ swig. Just enough to chase away his doubts and questions, enough to drown out Louis' voice in his head…. _His_ voice. 

_He'd fucked somebody while facing them._

And the truly terrifying part of that entire sentence, is that he _enjoyed_ it. 

Probably so much more so that it was with Louis… 

“Okay. I have my liquid sanity. You may speak now,” he said, ever so cockily with a smirk to match, as he threw his legs over the arm of the couch and pulled himself up to sit on it, knees drawn up so he was able to rest his elbows on them. 

This was going to be fun. 

“Would you like to explain why the fuck _my_ hybrid just lost it and asked for _you_ during his heat?” Liam iterated, tone clipped.

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” He growled. “During his two weeks at your place.”

Harry smirked, a slight tilt of his lips, and took a swig from the bottle. “Would it make you feel better if I told you he screamed your name?” He asked, eyes flicking to Zayn. “Apparently you've joined the butt-buddy squad, so who knows what sick shit you're into.” 

Liam levelled the other man with an unimpressed glare. “Don’t deflect, Harry. You fucked my hybrid. What the fuck man?” Liam yelled exasperatedly. “You took his virginity. Do you know what that means to a hybrid?”

Harry's cockiness and sarcastic comments ceased the moment the word ‘virginity’ was thrown into the equation. _This was new. He didn't know Louis was a virgin._ With a sharp inhale, Harry tried covering up his reaction with a drink of the burning liquid, playing off his lack of knowledge as full on bitchiness. “Actually, Liam, I do.” He said, both eyebrows rising as he struggled to think of _what_ to say that didn't throw him under the bus for being an arse. 

“It means I popped his butt cherry, and he begged me to do so.” The crude route was his favorite way to go down when he was lost, when he didn't know _what the fuck_ else to do. With a low humm, Harry set the glass bottle on the table and stood. “Stop claiming him as yours when everyone in this room knows Louis isn't owned by anyone. If anything, _you're_ his bitch.”

Liam stood, walking to stand in front of Harry. He sized him up, shoving him hard. “You’re still deflecting. Louis _is_ my hybrid, as a matter of fact. I have the papers to show for it. Now let’s forget for a moment that you fucked _my_ hybrid, took his virginity without my permission. You couldn’t even care less what that means to Louis.” Liam knew Harry too well. Knew that to him, this was all just a game. That Louis was a convenient fuck to him and nothing more.

“I want you to get out.”

Harry caught himself when Liam shoved him, hip hitting into the edge of the couch and if not for the tiniest bit of respect he had left for the man, he would have pushed him back. “And what, Liam? Wait outside your door for you to call me when Louis wakes up in an hour, _screaming_ because he _needs me_?” Scoffing, Harry shoved past Liam, shoulder hitting into him with a little more force than was necessary. 

“Hop off it, Liam. Louis is a big boy, can make his own decisions, and he's clearly content with me, otherwise lover boy over there would have been enough for him.” Then, with a sudden jab at Liam's chest when he turned around, Harry leaned in and whispered harshly, “don't forget I came. I could have ignored your call, and stayed home. But. I. Came.”

The callousness Harry carried himself with about this absolutely infuriated Liam. He inhaled slowly, reeling in his anger. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice gentler. “Louis can’t be one of your _playthings._ ”

“I know how this goes, Harry. And I know that _this,_ ” Liam emphasized. “Is going to break him.”

If he had any hope in Harry to strap in and take care of Louis, commit himself to the boy exclusively, he wouldn’t be making all this fuss. But it was clear how invested Louis was in this. It was also clear to him how insignificant Louis was going to be to Harry once his heat came to an end.

Harry may play this off like he didn't know _what_ was at stake, like he didn't give a fuck about Louis or his well being, but no human could ever truly be that cold, not even the magical man that Harry was. He didn't _love_ Louis, nor did he want any sort of domestic relationship with him, but he didn't just want to drop the boy off once the heat was done and just pick him back up the next time around. He wanted more while also wanting Louis to feel less, and Liam didn't understand _this_. He never has, and never will. Stupid bloke has always been the romantic sap. 

“What do you suppose I do then, Liam? Leave him now, and send a card next month with my condolences when his heat _finally_ kills him? You know as much as I do that I can't leave,” _even if I wanted to_ , was added as a silent afterthought, but Harry's arse was already the grass in Liam's lawn mower. “Regardless if I _stay_ or _leave_ , he's going to get _hurt_ in the end.”

“You’re right,” Liam said thoughtfully, a plan formulating in his head as he stared at Harry with a blank expression. “But he’s going to need more.”

Harry rolled his eyes, hand moving to thread through his hair and push the curly mess back so it wasn't falling in his, creating curtains of brown. “What more do you expect me to do, Liam? As you've so kindly pointed out, I only have _playthings_. Louis is, if I might add, the _only_ one I've kept around for this long.” 

“His biology demands more. You can’t toss him aside once you’ve had your way with him. Because you deemed it okay to fuck him in the first place without thinking about the repercussions, you’re going to have to pay your due. Louis will need you. He seems to have recognized you as his mate, and by law of nature, that’s only going to become stronger as you go,” Liam explained with a semblance of calmness.  
“It’s going to get harder on his body and mind to be away from you during heats. You’re going to make sure you cater to his needs at those times,” he declared with a steely voice brooking no argument. At least when it came to anyone other than his hard-headed asshole for a friend.

Harry laughed, a genuine laugh that wasn't forced or full of sarcasm as he once again stalked past Liam, fully intending to gather his shit and show Liam nobody was going to tell him _what_ to do, but stopped. “I'll be doing none of those things, Liam. Me being here is already pushing the unspoken arrangement me and Louis have made. Anything beyond this, just isn't going to happen.” And Liam was ridiculous to think otherwise.

“That's where you're wrong. You will be doing _all_ of those things because if not, I'm going to file a complaint on the stands of how you took my legally acclaimed hybrid’s virginity without my signed approval.” Yes, that was a dirty move. But if it would bring Harry to heel, then that was the angle he'd play.

The way Liam held himself, watching Harry like he was _daring_ him to push it, to say otherwise as he flashed his glowing phone screen and grinned. “What the hell has happened to you? Does me sleeping with Louis _really_ threaten you that much?” Harry asked, flickering green eyes between the three men standing in the room, lingering on the disgusting male in the corner glaring like a mutt. Stupid Dylan. 

“Turn me in. Take me to court. _Press charges_. But at the end of the day, ask yourself if seeking your twisted idea of justice is _really_ worth losing Louis. Because you know if you follow through with locking me up, Louis will be none too pleased with you taking his _mate_ away from him.” Harry flashed a grin, knowing he was striking a nerve and he didn't care. Liam was the first to take the low blow, now it was Harry's turn…. 

Until he heard that soft mewl, only audible to him and Liam, slithering down the hallway followed by a soft call of his name, a nearly inaudible beckon from Louis. He _needed_ Harry, and the man could do as he wanted and leave, chancing killing Louis in the process which would then reflect even worse on him if Liam did decide to pursue this in court, labeling him as some fucking monster. “Giant freak sneaks around stealing kitten virginities at night! Watch your youngins'.” 

Or

He could suck up his pride, let his record disintegrate into nothing and allow Louis to take its place, to notch off the first mark on the otherwise blank canvas signifying his first attempt at something resembling a monogamous relationship. 

He had his answer, even before he allowed himself to form it in words. He had it the moment he touched Louis that night at his house, he'd just ignored it. “I'm not doing this for you,” Harry growled, tone sharp, raspy as he placed a hand on the partially open door. “And don't think that by me walking into this room, I'm suddenly changing who I am. Forcing me into this will be the biggest mistake you've ever made, Liam. I promise you that.” 

He didn't wait for a response, or even an apology-- not that he'd been expecting one. As quietly as he could, as to not wake the kitten he wasn't aware was fully conscious, Harry closed the door and turned around, only to have sleepy eyes find his. “Hi,” he said softly, cautiously, unaware of where they stood now that the first wave had come and gone. 

Louis’ lips lifted in a lazy smile when he realized Harry had stayed.

“Hi.”


	7. When he looked at Harry, he felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! So, it has recently come to my attention that the entire foundation for our story, the idea we originally thought was a prompt Em found on tumblr, actually belongs to another fic on Ao3. The original author has been kind enough to allow us to keep what we've already written, and continue on with our story, and I am eternally grateful to them. I would probably cry if I had to give up this story without finishing it, because as silly as this may seem, her six paragraphs is what started this story, and pushed us to actually turn it into what it is. So, I would like to give a shout out to, whoknows. If y'all haven't read the original story yet, you should. You can find it on her account, which i stated above, and the title is, Make a Run, Cause Some Rebellion. I had the honor of reading it after one of you commented about it, and it is truly amazing. So, when you get the time, mosey on over there and give it a read!
> 
> Now, with that cleared up, I bring you chapter 7! I am excited with where we are heading, and truly love reading all your thoughts/comments. Leave as many as you'd like, i'm sucker for the early-hours-of-the-morning-comments. They're my favorite!!
> 
> On that note, I hope you enjoy this chapter! We may be a little late posting the next because my lovely co-writer, Em, is away on vacation for the next few days and I feel she deserves the very much needed break.
> 
> Anywhoodle, enjoy!
> 
> Xx

Harry was successful in getting the kitten through the first night following his heat, never straying too far because it seemed like the moment he stepped out of the room, Louis sensed it and he was wide awake again, begging to be filled with Harry if only to make the pain go away.   
  
When they were together, touching or otherwise close, the pain wasn't as strong; just a faint discomfort.   
  
So, with quiet whispers filling the night air, thick with twined scents, heavy with the emotions radiating off of Louis, Harry fucked him through it all. And when they weren't fucking, he was laying on the opposite side of the bed, trying to get enough distance to let his clammy skin cool down, to let the sweat in his still matted hair dry. But he was mostly there to act as a silent comfort.   
  
Liam and his threat wasn't even in his mind, wasn't a worry, when he laid still those few hours with Louis curled up in a ball at his side, a possessive arm hooked over his stomach with sharp claws digging into his side to assure Harry wasn't going anywhere.   
  
He did it because... Well, what else was he to do?   
  
When the numbers on the clock approached the early morning, and exhaustion was just now hitting him, reminding him of the little sleep he'd had, Harry slipped out of the bed and slipped on a pair of sweatpants he found in Louis' dresser, which, if he's being honest, looked a /lot/ like a pair he owned that he was sure the kitten /didn't/ steal.   
  
The loft was quiet when he tiptoed down the darkened hallway, being cautious to stay silent as he turned on the light in the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. He hadn't ate since some time yesterday, and if he had any hope with being up to helping Louis through his next wave, he needed /food/.   
  
He was in the middle of making him and Louis an omelet, scratch anything healthy going into it because it seemed the word /healthy/ wasn't apart of Louis nor Liam's vocabulary, when he heard the quiet squeak of Louis' bedroom door, followed by the soft sound of his footsteps down the hallway. "Good morning," Harry murmured, voice a low rasp, thick from being unused for so long-- well, being used to say anything louder than a whisper.

Louis rubbed his eyes, a pout he was trying to hide, evident on his face as he closed the distance between them, the discomfort in his body lessening with every inch he covered. “Don't see what's so great about it,” he grouched, arms going around Harry’s mid-waist. His mood brightened considerably once Harry was in arm’s reach, a small smile gracing his worn out features.

“‘Morning,” he replied.

The night was everything he could ask for, Harry being there through all of it and helping him along, satisfying his every need no matter the exhaustion it clearly afforded the man. “What are you doing?” Louis chirped, settling at the counter with his head propped on a folded hand.

“Liked that thing you did just before I fell asleep,” he piped up after a few minutes of a looming silence. “Felt amazing,” the boy said in earnest.

“What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?”

His ears were perking up now- along with other…  _appendages_ , body charged with a lascivious enthusiasm. He was ready to  _go_  again- not even 10 minutes after waking up.  _The joyous effects of a heat_. He was going to suck Harry dry before the end of his heat.

He watched as the muscles on Harry’s very vividly defined back flexed as he cooked, arousal pooling in the depths of his stomach at the sight. After all that hot, needy sex, it was hard not to see Harry in the light of anything besides the sex God that he'd quickly become in Louis’ head. He bit his lips, eyes leering at the man’s bare upper body hungrily on its own accord.

His eyes flickered to the table he was sat at. If Harry decided to clear the table and take him right here, the collateral damage would be a bare minimum. The breaking of the condiment holders on the kitchen table could be written off as Louis’ usual meaningless mischief.

He swiped his tongue across his lower lip.

Sweat beaded along his temples.

He needed to get it under reigns for as long as it took to address the elephant in the room.

There were more pressing concerns at bay here.

As such, they stayed stewing around Louis’ cloudy head while he tried to figure out how to broach the topic without taking them back to square one with the whole, ‘this means nothing’ sentiment.

“How does this work?” He asked hesitantly, voice slicing through the settled silence among them.

He took the plate handed to him with an appreciative smile before he locked gazes with Harry. He bit the insides of his cheeks nervously as he waited for an explanation. They were clearly past trying to avoid each other and moving on. What was next?

Harry took the silence as a chance to think, ignoring everything else the boy asked or said as his mind obsessed over that one question; How does this work? He wanted to tell him that this, the thing he thinks is between them, doesn't exist but it's beyond ignoring now, trying to play off like it's  _nothing_.

Even though discussing this would only prove to Liam how pathetic Harry was, willing to string the boy along than see himself locked up in jail, Harry didn't view it in that way. Liam had a point, one that was twisted and he may have taken the wrong approach, but it was a point nonetheless.

If Harry wanted to listen to it, however, was an entirely different discussion.

“I'm attracted to you,” Harry said after chewing over the words for a few considerate moments. “This, whatever there is between us, is wrong on so many levels, and it will never be more than it already is, but neither of us can walk away until we've gotten the other out of our system,”

“What that means for this,” he gestured between the two of them as he took a seat at the table, “I don't know. All I know is I want  _you_  the way I have  _you_  now. Nothing more, and nothing less. I will be here for you during your heats, and whenever else you get the urge to fuck, but beyond that,” he gave a shrug, clueless how to continue. “There's nothing.”

As he's said before, relationships weren't his  _thing._ Sleeping with someone was just that; sleeping with someone. He didn't build a relationship with another person, has never had an endgame in mind and he doesn't think he ever will. He's not marriage material-- he likes his freedom and he likes having choices. But he can't just  _ignore_  the itch Louis has created in his stomach, a near constant annoyance whenever he was away from the boy.

And he definitely couldn't ignore the constant urge to  _fuck,_ and  _fuck_  and  _fuck_  when around, Louis, either. It was like nothing else mattered, nobody else was  _important_. The world wasn't turning, the birds weren't chirping and Harry wasn't  _breath_ ing until Louis was beneath him, the moans calming his singing blood, bringing him back down to earth while also rocketing his entire body to another planet.

He was the calm before the storm, but he was also the storm; an entirely confusing and destructive being tied into one and Harry couldn't get  _enough._  He was never sated, never full-- even now, he wanted Louis, couldn't keep his eyes from flicking to the boy. His cock was just as happy to watch, and jesus Christ, he was doing nothing more than  _eating_ , but that seemed to please Harry  _more_  because it was him who had fed Louis; him who made him feel so good and took care of him.

Holy fuck--

What was wrong with  _him?_

Harry wanted to get him out of his system. That was what this is. The kitten-boy's ears fell flat against his head as much as he willed himself not to look disheartened.

“Oh.”

It was flat-toned and just above a whisper.

He wanted to say 'no'. Wanted to scream it, and soothe his bruised ego. But he needed this just as much. What he felt being away from Harry somehow didn't feel worth keeping his pride intact. Still, he couldn’t help it when his face fell at the information that he frankly should have expected. He kept his eyes on his meal, mulling as he played with the last remnants of it.

He ate them in silence, mood lightening up a bit at the effort Harry had taken to feed the boy.

When he lifted his gaze again, he caught sight of the hot desire burning in his eyes. It made the heat in Louis’ own stomach stir. He drew his lower lip between his teeth and watched Harry intently, like a prey watching its predator for any movement before making a run for it. Only, Louis had no intention of running. Quite the opposite, really. He put his fork down with a very soft clatter before standing up and closing the distance between them.

In an unforeseen movement, he dropped to his knees with a thud, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, just–  _waiting_. His hands rested on his lap, and he felt locked in the moment with no regard for anything but pleasing Harry.

"Want to thank you for last night," he said softly.

His eyes flickered to Harry's cock protruding through the material of his sweat pants- indicating, before traveling up to meet the man's gaze. Harry felt so much taller like this.

Daunting.

But Louis felt at ease around him now. He'd been embedded into a place in Louis' animal psyche that felt safe and familiar. He didn't know when that transition happened, or how really, considering he always came out of an interaction with Harry, feeling emotionally battered. But it happened, apparently. And Harry was now, somehow, his  _safe place_.

Life had a weird way of working itself out.

Louis had his mouth on Harry the moment he'd dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. He was sat sideways with his ass barely hanging off the surface to give Louis some leverage. The boy placed his hands on Harry's thighs and sucked him off vigorously. The feeling of his hard, thick girth around Louis' lips, made the boy moan a little, the trapped sound setting off a vibration around Harry's length. Louis grew impossibly harder at the response that earned him. He felt like a true cockslut in the way he relished this feeling. The feeling that seeing the pleasure on Harry's face that  _he_  was causing, gave him. With one swerve forward, he bottomed out on Harry, taking him deep and making himself choke a little in the process. His eyes prickled with tears, but he was a happy boy- looking completely blissed out and simply–  _wrecked_.

When he felt Harry begin to tense, he quickly pulled away and smiled up at the man cutely.

Not yet.

He stood back up and turned around.

Louis was bending over to hold his ankles.

It was neither an agreement or a rejection, just a response that the Kitten knew _well_ as he gave into his urges, the one's Harry stirred to life.

But he wasn't the only one affected.

With his balls tightening, drawing up as his orgasm loomed overhead, Harry grabbed hold of Louis' hips and had planned on fucking him like this; just like this. The angle was perfect, and his body was too fucking hot and needy to  _care_  how they fucked as long as they did.

It wasn't that simple now, not anymore. He'd gotten a sliver of the cake, and with the rest of it bent before him, he planned on devouring the  _entire_  thing; wanted to taste  _all_  of him. His back was bland, starchy-- now that he knew what the front was hiding.

Their movements were stumbled-- rushed as Harry drug Louis to stand up, teeth clashing as they chased swollen lips. He backed Louis up against the counter and lifted him without a second thought, without waiting for permission because he didn't  _need_ it. The teeth grazing his neck, marking his skin,  _claiming_  his cock with a tiny fist working a quick hand over it, was permission enough.

It wasn't beautiful, nor anything close to resembling such a thing. It was fast and dirty and oh so fucking raw as he pounded into Louis, sliding him across the counter with deep grunts and choked off moans. He buried his face in his neck somewhere close to coming, refusing to be that cliche person who  _watches_  their partner come even if every ounce of his body was fighting to do just that. His entire body tensed, this delicious ache in the core of his stomach tightening before he finally just let go; released  _ever_ ything and Louis was quick to follow-- to chase Harry.

The counter was a mess and cum was splattered everywhere, droplets of Harry's that was leaking out of Louis' hole s splotches of white on the floor. “Say yes,” Harry whispered, voice mirroring how completely wrecked he felt as his vocal cords shook to form even those simple words. “Say… Yes.”

Louis panted through lips bitten red from the sounds he’d been suppressing. He looked at Harry with a mix of emotions on his face as he considered what he was asking of him. Yet again, tears pricked his eyes as he thought about how much he was going to regret this.

Still,

“Alright.”

Harry wasn’t offering him anything close to all that he’d hoped for. But if at the end of the day, he got to have him in this sense at least,  _maybe_  that would be okay.

He would be  _okay_.

.

“Does this mean you get to fuck whoever you want outside our arrangement?” he asked out of the blue, fucked out and trembling on top of the bigger male’s body as he came down from the quickie they’d just had, in the following day. “And we stay out of each other’s life when we’re not fucking?” He asked next, uncertainly. He felt a thick block of fear and misery with his next question. “What happens when you get in a relationship? Will you just stop showing up for my heats?” Louis knew very well what that would mean for him. He was almost certain he wouldn’t survive that. In more ways than just physically.

Louis also suspected that no matter what Harry’s answer to that was, it  _would_  eventually happen.

Louis  _would_  someday, be effectively  _out of Harry’s system_.

He  _would_  eventually be tossed aside like he meant nothing.

“Can I… stay with you during heats?” he asked hesitantly, pushing his depressing thoughts to the back burner in order to finish hashing out the details of… this. He knew it was a terrible  _terrible_  idea. Knew that the last time they tried that ended in a catastrophe of epic proportions, but the only thing that seemed to calm him down when he was on his heat anymore was Harry’s scent. And the man’s apartment was full of his scent. It might not have been worth being degraded and feeling out of place whenever Harry wasn’t fucking him, but the need to ask him came as a spontaneous urge he couldn’t squash.

“And I can pursue a relationship with someone else?” That last question was a very indefinite hypothetical, but Louis needed to get an idea of everything that was on and off the table with this arrangement. Needed clear parameters. Ideally, he would want everything- a relationship, plans for the future, fancy dates, lazy mornings, a domestic routine, the whole package with Harry. But if he couldn’t give him that, Louis still wanted to have those things with someone, even if it wasn’t with Harry.

Louis' room stunk of the two, scents mingling in a clashing cloud of the floral slick and musky sweat, tinged with the underlying smell that cum was-- indescribable but /very/ distinguishable. A lazy gesture off into the distance at Louis' question before Harry slumped back into the mattress and wrapped a led laced arm around his back, holding him against his chest in an unconscious move to make them /closer/.  
  
"Yes, to all," Harry said, not quite catching all the questions but not doubting one bit they were ridiculous things they'd already gone over; repeated questions thrown out of their minds and forgotten as Louis' heat comes back around in full waves-- making /everything/ they'd discussed temporarily forgotten.   
  
He didn't enjoy the idea of Louis being with someone else while they were in this relationship, the nasty claws of jealousy and possessiveness tearing his lungs to shreds with each shallow breath he took; but he'd have to get used to it, /agree/ to it. He owned Louis during his heats, that was it. Friends with fucking benefits, that's what they'd agree on.   
  
Still, he should have a much stronger say over what Louis does if the kitten truly believes Harry's his /mate/.   
  
He shouldn't be able to fuck anyone else, Dylan shouldn't have a /chance./  
  
But he did, and that's because Louis was following the rules Harry laid out;  
  
No feelings,   
  
No attachments,   
  
No strings attached.  
  
Just fucking.   
  
Yet,   
  
"No fucking a week before your heat. Your body clings to the other peoples scents and makes you smell wrong... Your /heat/ smell wrong." The disgusting tinge he'd smelt in Louis' scent when he first got here was still singeing his nose.   
  
Rolling them over, so he took his rightful spot hovering over Louis, an arm barricading his one side as fingers grasped the kittens chin with free fingers, moving his face up. "You're mine then," Harry said with a low growl, possessive and commanding, daring Louis to argue or push him, "understand?"  
  
The kittens heat was coming to an end and there was no valid reason Harry was doing this, no explanation, yet he still dipped his head down and captured Louis' lips, slow, languid movements as their lips brushed before Harry was dipping his tongue in Louis' mouth. This place was already charted territory, explored, yet he still moved his tongue around, eager to get a feel of everything of could, taste all of Louis before he had to leave; had to follow  _his_ rules.  
  


Louis looked up at Harry startled from the sudden movement, wide eyes drinking in the undiluted possessiveness– dominance in Harry’s as he spoke. He nodded wordlessly, feeling very much like a tiny animal being claimed by its much bigger mate. Louis kissed back with fervor, unwilling to let Harry pull away, unwilling to let him  _go_.

He wrapped his limbs around the man, molding their bodies together frantically as Harry explored his mouth. His hands danced around Harry’s body, leaving soft touches over every bit of the expanse that he could get his hands on. When Harry pulled away, he fought his way back to his lips, wanting to keep him here for a few minutes longer.

He hugged Harry.

It was a single, plain embrace that meant so much more than the simple gesture it should have been.

And  _then,_ he let him go.

Watched sullenly as he pulled his clothes on and left the room.

The reality of their arrangement came crashing down on Louis the moment he heard the front door shut behind the man.

.

“Get your greasy hair out of my fucking face, Styles,” Louis grouched, seconds away from clawing at Harry’s perfect face. He struggled to get out from under his big body, spitting out the strands of hair that had somehow entered his mouth. Louis scowled at the half-asleep man, growling a little as he pulled his clothes back on. He  _may_  have just had some mind blowing sex, but he was still infuriated. At Harry. At himself.

He’d seen Harry chat up a fucking sleazy, hideous tramp that had nothing on him (she was gorgeous and had legs that went on for days– that didn’t make things any better!), on a night out with friends– Dylan and Niall, if you must know. His life is boring and routine. He’d watched with daggers in his eyes as Harry led her out of the club, intentions for the night very clear. It hadn’t even been a day since they came to their arrangement, goddamnit.

What made matters worse is that he couldn’t last a week without caving in and calling Harry up for a hookup. And stupid  _infuriating_ Harry was such a smug  _dick_  about it. So of course that ended with angry hate sex with a lot of kitten bites and deliberate scratches down Harry’s back.

He left the apartment, a grumpy, muttering cloud of darkness.

.

A month later found Louis spilling out of Harry’s apartment yet again, a little less angry at Harry, a little more angry at himself. They were back to the snarky, frenemy zone, hurling insults at each other every bit of the way to getting their clothes off and fucking. When they fucked, that’s all they paid mind to, choosing to block out the world of  _why_  this was a bad ideaout, and all that mattered was reveling in the pleasure of making the other come undone.

When they were done, Louis was getting the fuck out of there with no further words exchanged, forgetting at least one article of clothing in his haste to get away from his  _once again_  object of self-loathing. Whether it be a sock, underwear, and even his shoes that one time.

He tried dating, he tried meaningless no-strings-attached sex, he even tried a kinky sex club to try and get it up.

Only to end the night with frustration and a stronger sense of feeling unsettled than he began with.

A night of trying to drown Harry out with liquor ended with alcohol poisoning and an overnight stay at the hospital for his efforts. Kitten organs were a lot more sensitive to alcohol than the average human’s.

He was so constantly angry and unhinged  _all the damn time_ , that he found himself regretting their arrangement more than reaping the benefits of it.

The sex was still, indubitably great, but with the novelty of it fizzling out, Louis began to question whether it was still worth it.

Only to have that answered with an irrefutable  _yes_  every time he’d gone a day long without a good dicking from the man.

There were the odd moments, when curled up in strong arms– the trace of a stranger in Harry’s scent having nearly faded along with Louis’ fresh rage, that they were  _okay_. When things seemed like they’d work out, and everything would be okay.

But the hurt Louis physically felt when Harry came into his room smelling distinctly like he’d just been with another hybrid or human– that reminded Louis that he was only setting himself up for disappointment with thoughts like that.

When the sex turned into mindless fucking, passion fueled with no lingering emotions, nothing there to grasp onto when he was coming, nothing to detect in the guarded blue eyes, he became hopeless. Harry was facing him, giving into Louis' wishes and allowing himself to be seen in his most vulnerable state; something nobody else has ever witnessed. And it worked, for a while. Harry had him under his thumb, kept him tucked safely there to erase all chances of feelings.

He'd been a monster, a cruel human, and he'd done it to intentionally hurt Louis. He would fuck random strangers, never once facing them, just to get their scent; wanting Louis to smell that he'd had  _others_ that he wasn't the  _only_  one and Harry was taking advantage of their agreement. But then Louis began to pull away, drawing in on himself and away from the curly haired man's touches.

He seemed revolted by the very idea of him, began insisting they didn't face like Harry once had. He became quiet and disconnected, using the man's body before throwing him away; discarding him like a true piece of  _garbage_. And this is what Harry wanted, wasn't it? No feelings, no emotions, no consideration for how the other felt.

Except no, it wasn't. Harry wanted distance, yes. He wanted Louis to see him as a fucking monster, wanted the false mask the boy saw on his face to be ripped away and replaced with the unguarded truth. Because Harry was a monster-- a man unworthy of anything the kitten was offering. But he didn't want that flame to diminish into nothing but a tiny spark, barely there to warm them in the chilly aftermath before one of them pulled away, broke apart what little held them together now.

He could lie and say it was for the simple fact that the sex had lost the meaning it once had, but that would be as believable as Liam claiming he's still straight. He didn't want to be the monster anymore, didn't want to be on the receiving end of those glares he could not only see but  _feel_  from the other end of the bar when he wooed some stranger just to prove to Louis that he was still  _wanted._

The kittens he tried to pick up began to notice his change in scent only week's after they'd came to their agreement. One even asked why Harry was  _there_ when his mate was so clearly in need, wanted to know  _where_  his mating mark was, and Harry had been too stunned-- shell shocked, really, to respond with words. He, instead, threw the man out the door and reigned his pride back in, hiding the truth in the man’s words by baring his neck and showing he wasn't  _owned_  before he slammed his loft door shut and just collapsed on the floor.

Because in those moments, he could feel Louis the most. He didn't know why…

But he could.

He began wondering who this arrangement was really meant for, if the distance had been established to deny either of them a chance to have any feelings bud in their vacant chests. That small seed of unsureness he once felt was now a blooming field of flowers, hope to finally  _belong_ and be  _want_ ed flaring with life in his painfully tight chest.

It took him another month to grasp the real reason behind these feelings, to listen to them. A heat went by with no touching beyond fucking, no lingering eyes and barely any talking. They slept in separate beds, and when the heat was over, they were both quick to leave each other.

Harry knew why he wanted to leave, why he wanted to wash himself free of Louis' scent, having the stupid thought that if he didn't smell like Louis he wouldn't continue to question his feelings, but he had no idea  _why_  the kitten was acting the way he was.

Which led him to that fateful night, where he found himself drenched from the rain, clothes completely soaked, standing outside Niall's house-- where he knew Louis was staying the night because Liam and Zayn requested a night alone in the loft.

He wasn't sure why he was there, what led him there, why his bare feet even carried him through the puddles, across the gravelly road, slicing through the tender skin, but all rational thoughts had  _no_ business in his mind at that moment.

He just needed _Louis._ He could feel the distance in his chest, like a heavy rock crowding his lungs, making it physically impossible to  _breath_.

There was no other reason, not one he could explain except the coldness had been too much. He was tired of being shut out, of playing this game Louis had apparently started without telling him, refusing to give him clues as to  _how_  to play.

He knocked before he could back out of it, talk himself out of whatever it is he planned.

And even then, with his hair stuck to his face, clothes glued to his body as he waited for someone to open the door and offer him coverage from the pouring rain, he didn't know  _what_  his plan was.

Louis was stuck.

There was really no other way of explaining his life in its current state of nothingness.

The days dragged on, the sex became monotonous, and he’d entered a constant state of feeling  _blank_.

He didn’t know when exactly it happened, but it was a gradual cycle of of sex with Harry losing its meaning, simple day-to-day things he enjoyed becoming bland, and survival necessities becoming a hassle. He was just tired.

Tired of caring.

Tired of crying.

Tired of hurting.

Harry’s scent soon went from the calming drug that it was to him, to a mangled stench of strangers that he dreaded every time he anticipated sex with the man. That didn’t sit well with him. His animal psyche couldn’t seem to identify the tampered scent, sending Louis’ mind and body into a frenzy of conflict. He was constantly at war within himself. But that eventually died down, leaving him with this nothingness.

He felt nothing,

When he looked at Harry, he felt nothing.

There were the soft tendrils of hurt when he faced the man, so he opted for being taken from behind.

.

When the people around him started catching on, they made ample efforts to get Louis back to the cheerful, overactive kitten that he was. He hadn’t caused deliberate havoc in months now. Liam seemed to see that as his chance to go crazy on the ornaments and house decor that he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in before. Niall took him to parks, malls, bars and clubs, any recreational space one could think of, you name it. Dylan was at his apartment every other day of the week with cheesy movies, curly fries and hideously over-dramatic costume porn.

He was getting better.

Slowly.

Louis still craved Harry like he craved water or oxygen, still came out of it feeling drained.

He’d given up on trying to date Dylan, deciding the other man deserved more than the broken pieces of  _Harry’s toy_.

They were still friends, and Louis tried to imagine himself having more with the man, but five steps forward were ten steps back considering where he was mentally.

They discussed it and Dylan, bless his heart, was as patient as they come. He was willing to play this at Louis’ pace. If he wanted to stay friends, then they’d stay friends, and if he wanted more, then he was here for that too– in his words. A future with this man would be all too ideal. He’d be a good, faithful partner, they’d want the same things out of life, and a relationship with him would be all smooth-sailing. Not one harsh tide on the horizon to be spotted. They’d have a secured future with a white picket fence and a golden retriever puppy- who Louis would fight with on a daily basis. Eventually they’d decide to have kids, and the house would be filled with a litter of hybrid hellions. It was everything Louis grew up hoping for.

But the fact in point remained that it only felt right to want those things with  _Harry_. Despite where they were, despite the turmoil, the rough tides, his body and mind- all of him belonged to Harry. So his mind was set on having those things with  _him_. And  _Harry,_ on the other hand was set on proving to him that  _those things_  were a mere childish fantasy.

No matter what, his dream life would remain unfulfilled because… Harry  _was_  his mate. That left him with no way out of his web. But at the same time, Harry refused to acknowledge or believe that, keeping him from the heart of that said web.

Either way, he was  _stuck._

.

Dylan had come over to Niall’s with chinese takeout and pizza rolls that day. Louis’ favorite. He tackled the man with a hug, pecking him on the cheek as he dropped into Niall’s pull-out sofa. They’d been verging on bro-pal territory with ever the unforeseen breakthroughs on occasion. Louis made no move to get off his lap and looked at Niall pleadingly when there was a knock on the door.

He rested his head on Dylan’s broad chest and ignored the fact that the feeling and smell were all wrong. To be fair, nowadays there  _was_ no  _right_  to compare it with.

Harry drug a hand down his tired face, collecting the droplets of water off the bruising skin sagging beneath his eyes, proof of the many sleepless nights he had tucked beneath his belt. He'd tried, time and time again, even went as far as  _sleeping_  with the articles of clothing Louis has left behind in his quick departures, and while they worked to lessen the ache, they weren't  _enough._ It was like placing a Band-Aid over a knife wound, covering the surface but doing nothing to heal it.

His heart was beating quickly, wildly, bruising his ribcage as he waited five agonizingly long seconds before the door opened. He was tempted to turn around and run as soon as he seen it was Niall, who stunk like garlic, but then he heard a giggle, so soft and sweet sounding and all the strings attached to his body was suddenly pulling him towards the house.  _Louis._ But but stood still, standing his ground with arms folded over his chest in a pathetic attempt at keeping himself from pushing Niall aside.

“Harry?” The Irish man asked, shocked to see the dripping wet giant standing on his porch, shivering with no shoes. “What the hell are ye doin' here mate?” Peering around him to see if he could spot his car, Niall quickly took a step back when he seen an empty street and gestured for Harry to come in. “Get yer arse in here. You're going to die of hypothermia.”

Shaking his head, which upset his halo of curls and resulted in droplets of water flying off the ends, strands sticking to his face. “No-- I ugh, I…” He stuttered, unsure of what to say. The cold was catching up to him, chasing away his courage. “I was out running-- forgot my shoes at home. I, um, I was just wondering if you could give me a ride home?” His loft was on the other side of town, so it wasn't a completely terrible lie as he subtly looked through the crack between the door and frame, trying to see  _anyt_ hing.

“Uh, yeah,” Niall said, eyeing the man who was clearly lying but he wasn't going to question him. If he wanted to lie, then he could. “Let me just grab my keys.”

He turned around, pushing the door open more in a silent invitation for Harry to come in, but that was when he seen it. Louis curled up on the couch, tucked against Dylan's chest with his legs thrown over his lap. He was smiling about something, eyes completely doughy as they rounded into twinkling saucers. He screamed happiness, content, and Harry was taking a step back before he realized it.

That was  _wrong_ , but they looked so  _right_. Louis was where he belonged, Harry realised after a painfully stuttered breath. Him being here, him being in his life was what was wrong. He-- he was  _wrong_  for him, fucking up his life and suddenly Harry felt  _sick._ Louis didn't deserve this, didn't want him. That's why he's become distant. Them having sex was for convenience now, not because of some study theory that they were  _mates_.

Harry's mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts, too many to pinpoint which meant  _nothing_ made sense.

By the time Niall came back to the door with his shoes on and keys in hand, Harry was gone. Running. Screaming. Letting himself go as he relished in the new cuts the jagged rocks gave his feet. He  _deserved_  the pain. He deserved all of this for even reading into his feelings, for thinking he could possibly feel something more for the kitten than the hatred that was now threatening to pull him beneath the current.

Louis was Louis, and who Louis was, was not someone Harry enjoyed…  _Wanted._

It was that sentence, that mantra he's beaten into his head for months, that carried him home. The exhaustion was what finally pulled him into a deep, fitful sleep, rocks still wedged into the tattered skin on his feet, blood, water and mud a mixture smeared across his floor in rushed footsteps. He was still in his soaking wet clothes, too, the dampness of his sheets somehow drawing out the permanent smell of Louis;

A smell he could recognize even in his sleep. 


	8. It Was Time to Really Let Go

If _any_ a sign that Louis was getting better, then it was the fact that he was currently in the process of trashing Harry’s ensuite with shaving cream and toilet paper. He must’ve been early that day. Harry was not to be seen. So he let himself in with the spare key and got to work on what he’d come here equipped for. For one, to show Harry that he was back at his game, and for the other, to fight with the man. Or just talk. Anything to clear the air between them. Things had definitely shifted, and Louis- he needed to get ahold of his bearings. He wanted to at least go back to where they were before he started feeling so _desolate_. 

He wanted to go back to the Harry that smelled like _his_ Harry. _His Mate_. 

He's found himself sitting in the living room every night this month, the green glow from his alarm clock in the bedroom the only light filtering through his dark loft. The changing numbers did little to signify the time passing, that, or he just wasn't fazed when, in the blink of an eye, three hours passed. 

There was an undefined blank spot on his wall he was particularly taken to, eyes never once straying from it until the restlessness settled in his bones and he found himself pacing the floor, bare feet wearing down the hardwood with zig zagged lines as his fingers traced the claw marks that raced down his walls. The memories wanted so desperately to resurface then, to be felt again and have some sort of recognition spark in his heart, make him _feel_ Louis for what he was offering, not what what he was taking or lacking. 

But nothing made it past the brick walls he's once again put up, thick adhesive glue carefully holding the stones together to make sure _nobody_ could tear down the walls. He didn't… He was tired of trying. 

He'd been foolish to think what he was feeling for Louis, was _genuine_ and not just some dust left behind from the boys words, his promises. Harry was incapable of being anything, _feeling_ anything. It wasn't until that night he saw Louis with Dylan that the dust was blown away and he was left staring at everything so fucking clearly now; 

He had to end what they had. 

Obviously Louis didn't need him anymore-- his body. He had Dylan. Harry was just a fill-in, until he found someone worthy of his time. The sex wasn't pleasing the kitten anyway, as far as the curly haired man could tell. 

But, Louis wouldn't just allow him to walk away. So he had to give the Kitten a reason, an excuse for him to be the one to end it, to leave; make him believe he'd always been in control. 

“Leave, then.” Harry said after a few beats of silence, voice soft and monotone, void of any emotions, mirroring his blank eyes glued to the back of his couch. “You have no reason to stay here, _feline_. You can go help someone else fulfill their beastiality kinks.” His arms stayed hanging limply at his side, refusing to betray him and wrap around the kitten like the soft voice in the back of his head was encouraging him to. _He didn't want him_. 

“I'm done with you-- with us.” He said, voice steadily growing in volume. “You know where the door is, let yourself out.”

Louis flinched as Harry’s loud voice resonated around him. 

He looked up with furrowed brows, searching Harry’s eyes for any sliver of familiarity, anything to ease the anxiety building in him at Harry’s vicious words. The cold, soulless greens gave nothing away, shutting the boy out effectively. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered.

The boy let out a few stuttered breaths. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Just, _stop._ ”

"Of course I fucking mean it," Harry snapped, pushing Louis away with enough force one would mistake it for an act of violence out of hatred, rather than desperation. He needed distance. "I don't want _you._ ” he snarled. 

"This was all a fucking game to me, to see how long I could string the pathetic kitten along, make him believe I was _actually_ interested in him." Harry laughed and ran trembling fingers through his hair, trying to fight off the emotions running rampant through his body, not wanting the anger to be mistaken for hesitation or regret for his words. 

“ _Just STOP,_ ” Louis yelled, moving forward and shoving Harry as hard as he could.

It felt like the boy’s ears were stuffed with cotton as he listened to the distant roar of Harry’s voice, mounting with rage as he went. When unfiltered derogatory words and names spilled out of Harry with abandon, Louis felt unsteady, and for that reason alone, his hands wrapped around the man’s limp arms, keeping a firm vice-like grip on them to keep his knees from buckling. His face tilted towards the ground, blurry gaze focused on the tears landing to make small splotches of moisture on the hardwood floor.

“You’re my _mate._ ”

He said that with certainty, speaking over the irate words being shouted. They needed to get through this, he needed to _break_ through the man’s defensive walls. He’d known this wasn’t going to be easy, but it was just so much more painful than he could have anticipated. There was so much of genuine hatred and venom in Harry’s words, it was hard to believe they weren’t true. They had to be.

“That has to mean something to you,” came out in a weak, wavering tilt of his voice.

“Our biology, it– You can’t defy it. I’ll…”

Louis sniffled uncontrollably as he tried to be heard in between the violent commotion around him. It didn’t help that his own body was working against his efforts. His head was cloudy and his heart felt like it was giving out.

“Just look at you. Look at me. We need each other, Haz,”

“You… need to _stop._ ”

The kitten-boy’s voice cracked in a pitiful cry as he said it.

“You might need me, but I certainly don’t need you.” _lies_. He was spitting lies, telling Louis everything he could to get him to see that this wasn't what he _thought_. They weren't meant for each other, in any way. Using sex to deny that was unhealthy for both of them. He just needed to let _go_. Unsink his claws and take a step back, breath in air not tainted with Harry to see there was so much better than the curly haired man, that Harry wasn't _worth_ those fucking tears. 

So it was time to _really_ let go. To enhance those walls Louis was trying desperately to tear down, but he was no match. The hatred Harry held for himself was _too_ strong, and Louis was too small, too insignificant right now to really even pose a chance at helping in any way. 

His itching palms slowly calmed down, the antsy crawl he felt marching through his blood, demanding to touch Louis, disappearing as he imagined the Harry Louis knew, or thought he did, shattering into nothing as a heartless, shell of a man took his place. 

Because the man with dead eyes standing in front of Louis, speaking these words, _wasn't_ Harry; 

But it was the Harry the kitten needed. 

Pressing a finger into Louis' chest, Harry sliced away at the final layer, knowing this would dig deep enough to _hurt_. He would rather be the one doing the hurting, rather than be the one hurt. "I don't give a fuck about you." Then, just to add that extra punch, to make sure he _really_ broke Louis and set him off, made sure anything he felt was disintegrated into nothing. "I think you're _pathetic_. Falling for a man who isn't the slightest bit interested in you. You were so desperate for attention you were willing to accept it from someone who _hates_ you.”

“You’re just a pathetic little rodent bitch that can’t go a day without a fuck.”

It felt irreparably wrong coming out of his mouth, but he was at the pinnacle of changing their lives- giving Louis the future he deserved, one much better than what Harry could offer; and he was closing this door- that held inevitable turmoil of epic proportions for himself. It was a necessary evil. At least in his mind.

Louis couldn’t make sense of the static framing each word Harry spat at him, it was all getting to be too much, and he was shuddering– shaking, eyes moving around the room frantically out of focus and all at once, he was numb. He felt disembodied.

“Say my name, Harry.”

He looked up at the man, face suddenly stoic.

“Why won’t you _say, my name?_ ”

He took a step back, heart pulsing painfully against his chest.

Harry didn’t feel safe anymore.

And that wasn't ‘ _right_ ’.


	9. Who was willing to keep this alive? Them alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Before you proceed, know there are scenes in this chapter that are potential triggers, and may be viewed as offensive to some. It is teetering on being dubious consent, but to be safe I would say it is a scene involving rape. It doesn't go into detail, nor did we do it to offend anyone, but read at your own risk.
> 
> On that note, don't hate us. Xx

Louis blinked.

At the same deformed patch on the steel divider he’d been staring at for the past two hours. His eyes were burning. His body laid slumped against the sturdy seat, motionless as the last trails of the city whizzed behind him through laminated glass.

He felt like he was crying, but with no tears to show for.

Just a vacant, unmoving lump with a blazing headache and a choked up throat.

He preferred this to the violent tremors and the cries that made the world around him quake. That stopped at the 1 hour mark. Leaving him with  _this._ In a public commute, unknowing of his destination, oblivious to the curious onlookers around him.

The itch and slight burn in his skin was a constant reminder of what was to come.

He didn’t care.

When he scampered out of Harry’s home like an injured  _animal_ , he left any sense of care behind.

He  _wanted_  this. He  _wanted_  to stop caring. Didn’t wish for anything but _,_  in the months that led up to this moment.

He realized now that it was a scary reality to face.

His head moved mechanically to look at his phone screen. Missed calls. Lots and lots of them. From Liam, from Niall, from Zayn, from Dylan. None from the mate that effectively cut him out of his life. Broke his will.

He stood up, placing his phone, the one possession he’d had in hand, on the aluminium seat, and walked away. Walked out of the bus, and through busy streets, then vacant ones. He walked aimlessly, walked a distance he’d never had before, and then walked through the sudden rush of anguish and flames riddling his body, with a grimace, and only dropped to his knees when his entire being was taken over by a convulsion.

The gasp of air he took set off the most intense pain he had ever felt.

He braced his palms on the hard ground beneath him.

It was time.

.

The need to disappear was too strong to ignore as the walls began to close in on Harry, suffocating him with Louis’ scent, the image of the broken boy running out of his loft— away from  _him_  a permanent memory etched into his orbs. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t make the words he said remove the burning embers from beneath his tongue, erase the blades dragging up his throat before sliding back down with each labored breath.

This was what needed to be done, wasn’t it?

Harry shouldn’t feel like  _this_ , right? He shouldn’t feel anything for doing what he’s tried convincing himself was what he’s wanted all along.

But now, now he wasn’t so sure this was what he wanted.

Because Louis was screaming at him, begging to be felt and he got this overwhelming feeling of nothing only minutes after the kitten left.

Louis was shutting him out, killing himself to prove to Harry that he didn’t need him and the fact that Harry wasn’t positively thrilled to be permanently free of the kitten  _scared_  him. He was in deeper than he’d originally thought, had fallen without realizing he’d even stumbled and now he was left soaring by himself, freely falling with no one there to cushion his fall or make him feel better; make him feel like he  _wasn’t_ literally dying.

He had once been convinced being with someone was the worst possible thing in the world, but the reality of it all, and he was fucking cringing even feeling like this,  _thinking_ like this, but being alone now, seemed so terrifying in comparison. To lose his supposed mate before he’s even had him, to make Louis believe he’d rather he be dead than think there was an ounce of emotions Harry harbored for him.

It wasn’t like the movies said at all. It wasn’t slowly at all. At least not consciously. You began to enjoy the little things, noticing the way his nose scrunches when he’s concentrated, eyebrows furrowing when he’s trying to be mad when he really just wants to be held. The annoying whines became music to his ears, bringing clarity to his otherwise smoky life; breathing that will to live back into his lungs.

So, no. Feelings didn’t just appear slowly. They hit you all at once, leaving you reeling as you struggle to grasp onto one and  _hold_ on, trying to make sense of it all when no matter what you do— try, means  _nothing._ Your attempts are futile, worthless in every way. You’re caught in that whirlwind, expected to know that your feeling of worthlessness is  _actually_ so much more; want, need— the undeniable fact that you’re meant to be with that person, that single person you thought you hated and now.

Now nothing make sense.

But Harry can feel it. Can see as the nearly transparent tendrils unravel from his body and drift away, carried away by a wind whispering to him, suddenly screaming to  _find_ Louis. He was letting go, and Harry was trying so fucking hard to hold on.

He was too late.

He couldn’t breath, could barely drive as he sped to Niall’s house, hoping despite  _knowing_  that Louis wasn’t actually there. Still, he knocked on the door and left to Liam’s when the house smelt nothing like Louis, not even a lingering hint that the boy had even stepped foot in there once.

Liam’s loft was the same. It smelt dull, bland, thriving with Louis but smelling  _nothing_ like him. He wasn’t there, Harry could feel it in his bones, could feel that tug pulling him in the direction thought to be wrong.

He was losing Louis and he couldn’t do anything about it but follow an invisible fucking line, tethering them together while also pushing them apart. Louis was struggling against their bond, refusing to acknowledge or accept it and Harry’s heart  _hurt._

He was confused, delirious,  _lost._

If not for the insistent beeps of horns around him, constant and reliable to keep him coherent, Harry would have slipped beneath that shimmering surface, tempting him with the promise of being with Louis.

He was barely able to keep the pain at bay, had to force himself to focus on anything and everything else so he didn’t give into the iron fist crushing his lungs, tearing open his stomach in attempts to reach the tattered red ball that was beating off rhythm in his chest. And it was tempting. To finally give in. To stop these feelings and just be numb, but who else would fight?

Who was willing to keep this alive? Them alive?

_Louis alive._

In the next hours, punishing waves of agony washed over Louis in high tides, giving him no chance to come up for air. The boy cried devastatingly into the empty alleyways. His head fell against the ground, uneven ridges chafing and scratching up the skin on his face. It was like no other pain he’d ever known.

 _This_  was what he deserved for giving Harry everything it took to break him.

Alone,

Miles from home, and from everyone he knows and loves,

_Dying._

The boy took in a shuddery breath at that confrontation with reality. It felt like he was filling his lungs with fire. He clawed at the burning skin on his abdomen before he could stop himself.

Car horns blared in the distance and a cold wind swept the grass in an upward direction.

Louis watched with his open eye, as objects became vague figures, silhouettes and obscure shapes. It all hurt so much. He wanted it to  _end_ , already. But he was scared. So fucking scared. Thoughts filtered through his mind in bright, blurry frames and Louis– fuck, he wanted to be held.

The boy sniveled as a single drop of blood trickled out of his nostril, down his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed as he began resigning to his fate.

A pathetic end to a  _pathetic rodent bitch who couldn’t go a day without a fuck_.

.

Leaving London was not something that comforted Harry but he still drove, still followed that alluring scent leading him to unknown territory, but in his mind, wherever that smell was,  _was home._

He was frantic but calm, wanting to cause chaos while also wanting to keep the peace around him undisturbed. The feelings only grew the longer he was away, the longer he was left searching as his heart counted down how little time Louis had with each slow beat.

Somehow, down the road, his head ended up the window and he was yelling with all he was, screaming Louis’ name with an unfiltered desperation, refusing to hide now that everything was at stake. He’d fucked up.

Royally.

Then he heard it. A small whimper that shouldn’t have echoed in his ears like it did, registering in that part of his brain that was suddenly being flicked on. He stopped the car in the middle of the road, scoured the streets for the boy, hunted the different stores lining the block until finally he found it.

The place where the smell was the strongest.

He felt like a predator hunting his prey, all his animalistic instincts driving him to a crouch that he was barely able to fight. Louis needed him.

Louis needed him.

Louis  _needed him._

He could feel it. Had never felt something so intense.

And then he saw him. He was suddenly grounded, felt like he was invincible while also floating untethered through space, having no place truly belonging to him until he reached out and grabbed Louis, pulling him to his chest and inhaling that scent that centered everything.

Everything became silent, his screaming blood now a sloshy river of red through his veins, heart creating a low thump in his chest that was barely audible past the sounds of sobbing.

He wasn’t sure if it was in relief or something else until he felt those tiny fists pounding against his chest. “Louis,” he whispered, the pain slipping away along with any and all hatred he may have felt. This, this was worth so much more.

He couldn’t offer anything, was a piece of shit who was stubborn and was sometimes an asshole and he wasn’t romantic nor did he have the slightest idea what he was doing. But he was here, willing to offer himself to Louis, all of him... knowing there was a chance of rejection but not caring because his body was chanting Louis’ name like he was it’s life source.

And he was, in a sense.

The thing making him fight for something he’d never felt, blindly diving into uncharted territory on the off chance that Louis even wanted him anymore. He probably believed everything Harry had said— that the man hated him and was here to only further torture and humiliate him.

But no, that wasn’t  _why._

“Louis, I need you to listen to me.” Harry whispered, the dominant side of him hardening his words as that other stupid part, the part that didn’t listen to reason and was currently high on the kittens scent as their two scents mingled, softened the actual tone. “I didn’t— I want  _you.”_

_Please, believe me._

“I didn’t mean it,”  _you deserve better than me._ “I thought I was saving you from—“  _from me,_ a fact that would remain unsaid but the implication was there, the unspoken thought tightening the tension between their bodies. “From ruining your life.”

Still, sobbing. “Goddamn it,  _listen.”_

Louis felt weak.  _So. Weak,_ as he laid limp in Harry’s arms. He wanted so badly to settle down and revel in the healing Harry offered. But,  _no_. That’s not what he came all these miles away for. He gritted down, weakly pushing Harry away with all his strength, beating at the man’s chest, and fighting his biology the hardest he’d fought anything.

He sobbed in frustration as he felt himself tear in two internally.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Let me  _go._ ”

Harry  _couldn’t_ let him go and they both knew that, Harry more so than Louis as he held the thrashing kitten tighter, forcing his head to bury in his neck because he knew his smell was strongest there and Louis needed to  _calm_  down. He was slipping away, to a place not even Harry could save him from and if the man didn’t do something soon, stop Louis from pulling that thin string still connecting them, it would finally get set off and Louis would be  _nothing_.

He wouldn’t be  _alive_.

And Harry swears he would never do this, felt his own chest tightening as he fought off the urge to give into Louis’ emotions that were vibrating his entire being, thrust at him through their poor connection, but he  _had to_. In the alleyway, hidden from the eyes of passing strangers, Harry ripped the pants off the kitten as he continued to fight him, screaming for him to stop even as his body betrayed him and thrust down on Harry.

Louis’ body was like a ragdoll, and all he could do was  _beg. Scream._ “Please,” he cried in a coarse, crackling voice, willing his body away from Harry’s as much as it refused to comply. “Stop,” he sobbed, rivulets of red dribbling off his chin and staining Harry’s chest. He met Harry’s gaze with hollow eyes, now a tired grey in place of the lively blue. There was one plea riddled in them.

Harry ignored the pleas Louis was shouting, in favor of listening to the ones his body was begging.

Harry’s body was covered in claw marks, the blood his shredded clothes couldn’t absorb dripping to the asphalt by the time he was connecting them in the only way he knew would save Louis. The kitten was sat flush on his lap, Harry’s cock buried deep in his arse and despite his initial hesitation, the refusal to accept this, what Harry was offering and what he  _needed_ , Louis threw his head back, carried away by a moan that ripped apart his chest and completely drowned out everything else going on.

He couldn’t deny it when they were like this, couldn’t deny how well their bodies fit together, how perfect the kitten was, how his body was seemingly made just for Harry. His arsehole always stretched so perfectly, taking in every inch of him without a moment's hesitation.

But still, once he was able to catch his breath and was drug back down to earth, out of his head and away from the clouds, he was back at square one, fighting Harry when the man so clearly just wanted to help; fix what he broke.

“Stop it, Louis. STOP.” Despite the authority ringing in his words, his dominant side peeling back that soft layer, Louis still refused and Harry did the only thing he could think of.

With his chest to Louis’ back, his cock still buried deep in the boy, he grabbed a hold of his wrists and held them tightly as he awkwardly moved so he was kneeling on the gravely road, pressing the kitten against the wall and leaving nowhere for him to run.

“I’m doing this for you,” Harry whispered, a promise that meant nothing, a sentence meant to comfort rather than add fuel to the already burning fire, as he began to move. It didn’t feel like it usually did. The urgency to take was gone, replaced with the need to fix and heal; to make Louis feel good so he forgets everything that happened.

“You’re not,” Louis whispered, devoid of any emotion.

_But he was._

Soon enough, with their flesh smacking together, Harry working a free hand over Louis’ cock as he mouthed at the kittens neck, whispering low words in hopes to help bring him down, to ease him into a state of calm, the kitten was coming but Harry kept going— the need for him to cum not nearly as dominant of a feeling as Louis’ own neediness was.

Rape was a fierce word beating away at his skull, screaming at him to stop, that this wasn’t right but he couldn’t let the kitten  _kill himself._ He was already a monster, could find a way to live with himself after doing this even if it meant he drowned himself in booze, but he wouldn’t be able to live a second knowing Louis died thinking he was worthless;

Unwanted;

Used;

_Unloved._

Louis lost Harry to a blur of unfocused white and muffled sounds. He blinked tiredly, arms giving up their fight against the man’s strong frame. He felt his body slowly give out, feeling light against the ground.

Almost like,

he was floating.

His tail landed on the ground abruptly, and when Louis attempted to sway it, it stayed limp and unresponsive. Lifeless.

He just…

He was tired.

If he could just close his eyes.

For a minute, maybe.

Terrified, bleary green eyes were taken over by shadows.

 


	10. Alleged Sex Offender Unwilling to Stand Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H E Y !
> 
> It's been awhile, heh ^_^"   
> Hope you're all doing great. This is part 2 of Chapter 9.  
> Tell us what you think in the comments!
> 
> -Em

Sinking.

That’s what this felt like.

Gallons of emotions invaded his lungs, his heart, his brain, until he felt like a sunken ship, weighed down and broken. Here, there were no sounds from the outside world, no sharp noises that irritated his sensitive ears, making the soft tufts of fur stand in defense. 

Here, he was alone, with his thoughts for company, amplified to a point where they almost felt tangible, like objects around him within reach. At the same time, they were ghosts of whispers, against the silence around them. Around him. A silence louder than he’d ever known before.

It wasn’t peaceful, it was daunting. 

And the weight of a choice bore down on him unsparingly.

Here, he had the choice of becoming one with the silence, with the nothingness that his soul craved more than anything. The choice of _letting go._

Or facing the world up above.

It wasn’t appealing. It was daunting.

It wouldn’t be any less the unpleasant mess it was when he left it.

In this moment, it occurred to him that it sometimes took more courage to choose to live, than to die.

He had to consider the fact that he had a choice to begin with. Not everyone was that fortunate.

If he gave up now, he would give up a chance to wake up and live the life he dreamed for himself. That he deserved, and had every intention of working towards. He would give up a chance of living truly. All for a moment of wanting a way out.

Still, waking up would mean fighting, and he didn’t know if he had any fight left in him. He didn’t know if he wanted to.

We don’t always have to love the choices we make to know they’re the right ones.

A steady beep infiltrated the boy’s mind. Louis felt his breathing regulate, and he imagined his soul being re-tied to the clasps within his body. He felt cold, even as a warm material brushed his skin lightly. And there were voices. Sounds. A sterile smell.

The sounds around him, the voices, sounded distant and like they were happening outside a bubble around his head. Fingers clutched around soft sheets when the voices became a little more distinct, nearing.

“He’ll be fine,” he heard an unfamiliar voice say.

There was a pause where he couldn’t make out what was being said. Just a blurry static.

“...going through a lot of trauma right now,”…”Signs of rape, and distress.”

“And you found him like this, you said?”

Louis’ eyes fluttered, squinting when they didn’t take to the glare of all the bright lights. He clenched them shut, and cleared his throat, trying again. His eyes adjusted to the light, falling on a man in doctor’s scrubs, and a Harry that looked like a right nervous trainwreck.

They turned their attention to Louis instantly, the doctor beginning to ask him a few questions. Spaced out and even-toned.

His vacant gaze stayed fixed on Harry. 

As the questions raised in volume and became more pointed, he remained mute, watching the set of green eyes that stared back at him. Hard to read. A storm.

He imagined his weren’t any different.

“Alright. Well, his legal guardian has been informed and will be with us shortly. Meanwhile, we’re running a dna test to determine the prosecutor.” he told Harry in a hushed voice, pulling him to a side.

.

The silence surrounding Harry was near deafening, the hands in front of his face that was trying to wave him back into the present, drag him back from wherever his mind decided to reside at, were just a faint blur as his stomach tried to digest exactly what he'd just done. He still stunk of the kitten, his screams and begs trapped within the tiny droplets of salty tears trailing along his knuckles, vibrating with remembrance; though he wanted to do anything but remember. 

His entire life, he'd been led to believe he was a monster; unworthy of affection or love because he _liked_ pain. He was sick, enjoyed torturing himself in odd ways, always different with the outcome always being unknown but this-- this was _wrong._ He'd taken that leap over the invisible line inside his mind, crossed that path he swore to never touch, to always tiptoe around and he couldn't take it back. 

Even if he wanted to, even if he couldn't stand the thoughts scratching away at his skull, begging to be heard if only to gain some relief from his inner turmoil. Louis was his latest game, even if he was playing it subconsciously. The outcome he was hoping for wasn't _this._ He wanted… He _hated_ Louis. In his fucked up head, each second with him was an added bonus to his chart, another notch at his thin nerves, another jab at his tattered heart. 

_This… This wasn't what he wanted._

The man with brown eyes asks him a question, cellphone sandwiched between his ear as he once again checks the kittens pulse. He threw his jacket over the lower half of Louis' body, the half that was left bare and bloody when Harry had stumbled his way away from the limp body and puked just down the alleyway. When he returned, leaning over Louis to try and shake him awake, soothe the tether that connected them together and was screaming at him, telling him Louis _wasn't okay,_ the man found them and just assumed Harry had found Louis like that. 

_He didn't know the monster that Harry truly was._

Like always, Harry can't find his voice, can't find a response in his jumbled hurricane of thoughts, one that wouldn't immediately brand him as the sicko he was, thriving on the inside from their strengthening bond even as the bile stains his throat with just a mere glance in Louis' direction. 

It was something that needed to be done, something that solidified Louis' wavering health, only to completely fuck up Harry in ways he didn't even know existed. It was… _Fuck._ This situation was like trying to find that pretty red rose in the field of bees. He was getting stung relentlessly, hurt far more by the time he reached that damned rose, than he would have been if he just left it. 

And fuck, he's pacing again, swaying thoughts doing nothing to give Intel on what he'd done as he kicked the loose gravel. Once again, he was asked a question, this time he was able to respond with a short, clipped answer, words barely registering in his brain as they filtered through his mouth coated in sick. “His names Louis Tomlinson--” he said, giving no explanation as to how he knew that, just continued pacing until he seen an ambulance pulling into the cramped alleyway, two men pulling a gurney followed closely by an officer as they run towards them. 

Their voices are muffled, stranded on a far away island that Harry just couldn't hear. Still, he was escorted to the ambulance, pushed into the front to sit on a seat and instructed to stay there, all eyes on him like he was the one harmed and not the one who had done all of this. 

“I'm a fucking mess,” he says vacantly, no real reason behind his words as his thoughts run and run and run, chasing his mind in a dizzying circle until his world is left spinning and he's puking again, vomit splattered across not only his shoes but the black floor of the ambulance. The man next to him says something, a soothing hand brushing his back before he's offered a blue bag and pushed to sit with his back flat against the seat. 

“Just hold on,” the man said, voice a mere whisper in the screaming void entrapping Harry– “we're almost there,” and once again, he tries to comfort Harry, which the man abruptly shuts down with a hard shove at the emt's hand before he's angling his body towards the door. He deserves everything he's getting, but comfort is not one.

In a blur, a flurry of blue and purple, he is pulled out of the ambulance and along with the gurney, they're escorted through sliding glass doors and into the sterile hospital vibrating with life. “Clear trauma one. We have a nineteen year old male patient with trauma to-” Harry tunes out the screaming females voice, her frantic tone setting his already frayed nerves on fire. 

Instead, he turns and walks away, numb from the horde that's returned to his mind, endless shouts lodging in his throat as he aimlessly walks down the busy hallways, desperate to get somewhere but having nowhere to truly escape from himself. 

The officer finds him sitting in the waiting room, pulling his hair out by the handfuls as his nails relentlessly scratch at his skull. 

His feelings have abandoned him, emotions tiptoeing around his body but no longer within grasp which allowed him to suck up his previous meltdown and explain to the officer that he'd just happened to walk past Louis, had a witness to attest for that. It was fucked up for him to do, he could feel the lie shredding him apart, but he needed to say goodbye to Louis before he turned himself in. 

Had to explain why he did it, to say he at least tried to ease the kittens lifelong vow of hatred for him. 

But, he was a fool. 

By the time he was led to Louis' room, under the false identity as a witness and not to suspect, Harry had lost everything he was. He was vacant, _numb,_ ready to take on the world until those blue, bleary eyes found him. He could feel his resolve bending, his carefully structured determination to remain unseen, unbreakable and unaffected crumbling like a stale piece of bread 

And all from a simple glance….

A true beauty, and a fucking curse. 

He was paralyzed with a crippling anxiety, awaiting the moment everything came rushing back to Louis and he was picked out, framed for the horrible monster he was, no longer hiding in the shadows, pretending he was innocent when the very proof laid splayed out on his face, awaiting the right eyes to pick apart his mask and see everything he was hiding. 

“Lo--” he tried to speak, tried to form his name, the apology slithering across his teeth, tapping his canines in a futile attempt to escape but he couldn't speak. He can't, no. He couldn't say his name, didn't deserve to, and an apology meant nothing when the damage was already done. 

He had good intentions, just strayed way the fuck off course. 

Even with the officers grating voice in his ears, explaining his crime without pointing those dirty fingers, he couldn't bring his attention to anything else but Louis. 

He was staring at him, eyes scrutinizing, almost as if it was his eyes meant to pick apart the mask– he was just looking for the weakened corner. 

And Harry knew he found it, seen the way his eyes changed; widening before hardening with disgust and hatred. 

Louis knew.

He remembered. 

Harry's secret was out now, and Liam was walking through the door.

.

Through the commotion in the room, Louis stared, unblinking, unmoving, unspeakingly.   
His eyes picked Harry out and watched him. Watched his shoulders slump as Liam entered the room levelling insults and allegations at him, watched the panicked look on his face grow when the hospital staff and the officer changed their countenance towards him, becoming drastically more accusatory. 

Louis watched Harry turn to him and stare at him like he was the only thing that mattered in that moment. Like defending himself was far less significant than getting a chance to explain himself to his mate. Like the only reason he’d stuck around at all was to win back Louis’ regard.

It was all so confounding. _This_ is what Louis didn’t want to come back to face. Harry was a monster. He didn’t deserve his empathy or forgiveness, or a chance to explain himself. He deserved to be locked up. But everything in him made him want to push for a few minutes alone with the man. With his prosecutor. His rapist. His _mate._

To hear what he had to say. Nothing would make it okay. Nothing would take away the pain that tipped him off the edge and broke his will. Nothing would erase the wounds in his heart and the burn in his lungs. The pain written into the scars that riddled his body, and the words etched into his mind in stark lead.

But Harry was advancing, taking long strides and dodging a police officer to close the distance between them. He was trying to get the boy to talk to him, and Louis couldn’t bring himself to speak. The muscles in his face moved, but barely as he tried to get words out. He didn’t think he’d actually say anything even if he could.

“Stop! I need to talk to him. Let go of me!” Razor-sharp desperation bled through his words as he struggled against the hands holding him back, accusations ricocheting around the thin walls in the confines of his mind, bringing back that queasiness he thought he'd gotten rid of when he accepted who he was, what he'd _done,_ and what consequences came with his actions. 

Meaning losing Louis when he only now discovered the insatiable hunger he held for the kitten. 

And suddenly, when faced with the possibility of losing everything with one foul swipe from Liam, Harry was shoving the officers and hospital staff off of him as he yelled insults, threats, just wanting a chance to _explain_ to Louis that he did this for _him, them,_ and wasn't like the monster associated with the word ‘rape'. He got no joy from it, didn't even come when given the opportunity. He did this to help Louis, and the fact that thinking that very word stilled his rapidly beating heart and had darkness swallowing his vision, meant very little to those around him. 

He didn't need them to believe him, though. Just Louis. 

_Always just Louis._

“Mr. Styles, I’m going to have to stop you there,” the cop said, manhandling him. In a quick movement, Harry was swinging his fist at the man, and Louis looked on in silent apprehension as it connected with the officer’s jaw.

And then everything was happening so fast. Harry was struggling against the officer, looking at Louis like a caged animal. He was pulling away violently, trying to reach the boy.

Harry didn't even realize he'd swung until the officer was stumbling back, blood gushing between the seams of his fingers as he tried pinching his nose squirting like a fire hydrant. He knew that was bad, blacking out for split seconds which allowed his violence to bleed out was a horrible, horrible mistake to make and he should just give up, considering he was in a room full of people already twisting their own opinions on what kind of monster he was, and assaulting an officer was not going to win any of their hearts over. 

Still, he fought. 

“We have a code one at Merridian Green. Alleged sexual offender unwilling to stand down. I’m going to need a cover car down here ASAP,” he spoke into his portable radio.

“Louis, I just need a second,” Harry implored, trying to get the kitten to give into their bond and feel that Harry was hurt, desperate, that he wasn't the _monster_ they were accusing him of being. He of all people could see– _feel_ that. “Please.”

Louis looked at the man startled. He’d never felt such unbridled, strong emotions aside from hate from Harry. It was like Harry had pushed aside every last bit of hesitation, and he was _pouring_ into their bond. Hope, desperation, hurt, it was a whirlwind of feelings that Louis couldn’t pick apart and hold onto for longer than a moment. He squinted his eyes, the unexpected onslaught giving him a headache. He looked at Harry pointedly, eyes narrowing, and shut him out. Or tried.

He could feel the tethers of Harry’s despair latch onto him. 

Louis turned his face away.

His head feeling seconds from exploding. Everything was so loud. Everything Harry was feeling, wrapping around him like a shroud, consuming him whole.

It was small droplets at first, the shallow water barely splashing his electrified nerves as Louis began to accept him more, give into the bond he'd tried so hard to ignore, pushing him towards death to escape. Then it was waves, lapping at his liquefied body and threatening to merge them together, their feelings twining together, still separated, like oil with water, but connected in a way that neither could understand. 

He needed to explain, felt Louis' confusion stamping his thoughts while the underlying emotion was _disgust._ He couldn't stand to be near Harry, let alone see or speak to him. “Louis, you know this isn't--” cut off by a hand striking out, attempting to grab his wrist and hold him in place. Harry maneuvers around their bodies and orders in a strict voice he knew Louis couldn't ignore, couldn't just pass off, “Listen to me, Louis.” _Rather that be with words or just accepting what I'm trying to say with how I feel._

When Louis stares at him like that, refusing to listen, to speak, Harry growls. When it's silent like this, between them, it feels like he's sinking in quicksand, reminded on repeat his lapse in judgement and his never-ending list of fuck-ups, all seemingly involving the blue eyed kitten in one way or another. They'd been doing this dance for years, just never accepted it could be anything more than hatred. 

But it was. 

So, 

Much, 

_More._

Before he could react to anything that was being said, the policeman was hauling Harry face-first into the wall and cuffing him with no give, barking out the miranda rights at him as he watched Louis despairingly.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. Just how the fuck did they get here.

There were two more police officers spilling into the room, quickly at Harry’s sides, helping to detain the very unhinged man. The hospital staff looked outraged and were trying to contain the situation, the best they could. 

Louis flinched at the scene unfolding before him. Did Harry deserve to be behind bars? _Did he?_ The boy began to panic.

_“Stop,”_

“He didn’t– he’s… my mate,” came out in a groggy croak.

“It wasn’t,” he began, mouth pursing before he spoke again. “Wasn’t rape,” he breathed, avoiding Harry’s gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to feel everything Harry was trying to communicate. It was too much, too fast, too overwhelming.

“Louis don’t be fucking ridiculous!” Liam barked at him, “It _was_ rape. I am Louis’ legal custodian. He’s my hybrid and this isn’t the first time this has happened,” Liam told the cops, levelling Harry with a disgusted glare. He had this coming.

One of the officers turned their attention to Louis, regarding him with disbelief. “I’m sorry sir, but that doesn’t count for much on paper. The hard evidence here points to him as an alleged sex offender, and he will be charged accordingly.”

Louis sunk back into the bed. This wasn’t the time to stop fighting. But _why was_ he fighting. Harry was going to jail for hurting _him._ “You don’t understand– he had to, I was, he’s my mate, and I was in heat, miles away for hours,” he rambled deliriously, to the policemen that were no longer paying him attention, escorting Harry out of the room.

Louis watched after them, his heart bending in over itself as he felt Harry’s pain.

This was _wrong._

“Sir, if you’d just look at these–” a freckled, long-nosed medical intern tried frantically to get his senior’s attention. Had been, the entire duration of the event. “What could possibly be so important that you can’t wait a minute?” the resident doctor roared, turning to face the quirky boy. He snatched the papers out of his hands impatiently and skimmed through them, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at his intern confused, then back at Louis.

He turned around and went after the entourage that left the room seconds ago, in a hurry.

With nothing left to do, to prove, Harry allowed his entire body to go lax in the arms barricading his body. Louis had made his decision, chose to believe everything he was told without actually taking the time to remember what Harry did, _why_ he did it. He'd drug the boy back from the brink of death and he was still the one at fault, still the disgusting piece of shit in all these people's eyes and he wouldn't deny it. 

Because he agreed. 

He didn't bother trying to defend himself, didn't bother dragging in the mate law stating consent isn't required when a bond is threatened, knowing it would protect the weakest of the link which was almost always the kittens who just gave up. Louis _hated_ him and that was that. What was the point of fighting any further? 

Exhaustion crept over his body, hooded eyes hanging with dark bags locking on Liam and for a second, he felt everything return. The hatred, desperation, hope; _everything._ Liam was throwing him under the bus because he didn't _like_ the idea of Louis growing up. He'd adopted the kitten at a young age, and refused to believe he'd been tainted by the outside world-- by _Harry._ Once the man was trialed and found guilty, most likely given his sentence because of words Liam said, his testimony carefully worded sentences to hide the fact that he was lying to stamp “Monster,” on Harry's forehead, Louis had a chance at escaping his bond. 

If it was even real. 

It was possible, but painful. Human/kitten mates were rare in the world, which also meant their bond was either stronger or much more fragile than a basic kitten/kitten mates bond. It was never truly discovered _how_ strong the bond was until the first heat the two spent together, when the kitten was most fertile and open; prone to conceiving. If they didn't get pregnant, the bond was fragile, was easily undone. 

Louis wasn't pregnant. Their bond was _nothing_ in the laws eyes, yet, all at once, Harry had felt so _much._

He felt _everything_ and the smirking asshole across the hall from him was going to make sure he lost _all of it._

“Officer! Officer! Can you slow down for a second, please? I need to ask your suspect a few questions.” The residential doctor yelled from his place down the hallway, face flush and dripping with sweat from his run down the stairs in an attempt to catch up with them before it was too late. 

“Three seconds, Doctor. That's it,” one of the officers responded reluctantly, hand tightening around Harry's bicep like he had _actually_ been struggling, attempting to get free. 

“That's all I need,” the doctor assured, footsteps quick as he waved a paper in his hand. “You claim you're mated to the patient in room 208, yes?” Harry simply nodded, words no longer an option with his sand filled tongue. “How long has this bond been established-- er, how long since it was first brought to your attention?” 

Harry shrugged, not caring enough to actually pay attention to how odd the questions really were. He couldn't _feel_ Louis as strongly right now.“A few months, maybe,” he mumbled, eyes glued to floor. 

“Times running out–” the doctor cut off the officer that began to speak. 

“Mr. Tomlinson,” he began, eyes moving from each person's face for an added effect before they settled on Harry, a comforting yet smug smirk curling his plump lips, “is pregnant.”


	11. I'm going to protect you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies!! How is everyone this lovely afternoon?? I meant to update on the tenth, as a special 1 month anniversary, but between moving and everything else going on in my hectic life, I was unable to. It's okay, cry with me. :'( Anyway, what are your thoughts on the story so far? I have had so many people I know, tell me they were shocked with the direction we are taking our story but I promise we won't stay in this rut forever. They will work it out, and everything will be cleared up. Just stick around for a little while longer, yeah? It'll be worth it. :)
> 
> Whelp, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope to hear some of your thoughts on it!! 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Xx

_Pregnant._

_Mr. Tomlinson is pregnant._

The walls were ringing with awareness as that single sentence, one Harry couldn't swallow, in turn swallowed him. All at once, the ground gave way and he was falling, soaring, while also simultaneously getting crushed beneath an invisible weight, buried under the word like it was actually a ton of sand and not a simple word.

The grips on his arms lessened as he tried gasping in that air his lungs were so desperately begging for, but he couldn't move, couldn't kick anything into gear. He was frozen; stuck. Louis was  _pregnant._

But, that means…

“That's impossible,”  _and apparently Liam realized it first._

Their accusations, their beliefs that he was monster who had taken advantage of a kitten lost in their heat, were no longer valid; he was untouchable-- the law couldn't  _touch_  him and he fucking hated himself so much more now. That– the pregnancy proved his innocence, proved his effort at trying to save their bond and now the officers were staring at him with awe twining around their pupils. His actions were to be respected now, all because a fucking  _fetus_  proved their idea of what a  _strong_  bond was.

It also meant Louis belonged to Harry now… Liam couldn't  _touch_  the kitten without Harry's permission and the man was suddenly charging at the curly haired man, shoving him against wall and the tallest of the two didn't fight; let himself be manhandled and abused because he believed he  _deserved it_.

He'd done something so  _wrong_ , and now his hope of paying for it was gone because he couldn't wrap his fucking dick.

“I-I Liam! I didn't mean to,” his voice was a mere squeak. Harry wasn't begging, wasn't struggling and he wasn't giving in to prove he was some hero who refused to fight in front of the little girl with cancer just down the hallway. He was anything but heroic, just a coward hoping the pain Liam's hits out of anger brought, would be enough to lessen the pain trapped beneath the thick layers of his skin.

He was giving in because he couldn't do _this_. The fighting.

The accusations.

Accepting what he'd  _done_.

Let alone accept the growing thing in Louis' stomach he's yet to give much thought to.

He just knew now, he was safe from everyone else but…

_Himself._

“Mr. Payne,” the officer shouted, restraining the other man now.

Dr. Hoffman pulled Harry aside and had a nurse treat the bruises on him as he spoke again.

“The kitten is 20 weeks pregnant.”

“He’s having what is known as a ‘Cryptic Pregnancy’. I’m going to need to run you through what that entails,” he told Harry watching the men start to clear out.

“Taking all the signs into consideration, his hCG levels are pretty low. So basically the fetus is unable to communicate its needs to the mother. What that means for your child is that, they’re likely to be underweight and a little sickly at birth. But with the right care and treatment, we can remedy that,” he elaborated, tone falling flat when he saw the look on Harry’s face. Clearly, he needed to give the man some time for the new information to sink in.

They couldn't afford that, however. Time was of the essence.

“I know this is a lot to take in. But what I’m trying to say is, Mr. Tomlinson uh... needs a lot of attention and care right now. And considering the trauma he’s just experienced and is experiencing currently, the pregnancy is in a very risky, unpredictable stage. And if you can’t ensure that he will be well taken care of, I’m required by law to place him under the care of another willing caregiver.”

“I know that something like that might be hard for a mate to hear, but it is what it is.”

Twenty weeks pregnant, four entire months spent in the unknown, numerous alcohols swimming around the baby and strangers hands littering the skin stretched over the invisible bump. How many men have been close to the fetus, touching Louis, unknowing of the secret his stomach held, all because Harry refused to believe he was weak? That he could harbor emotions that pushed far beyond the simple ones he'd managed to muster up during sex.

“What does taking care of him-- will he be  _okay?”_ The unspoken question about him being the one to cause the damage to the fetus, didn't go by unnoticed as the doctor gave a firm shake of his head. What Harry had done, taking Louis against his will, had ensured the kitten and the fetus had an  _actual_  chance at surviving. By doing that, he was paving it's path, giving it a chance. 

“We will further discuss what his care plan is once we have a chance to inform Mr. Tomlinson,” nodding his head at the officer who was restraining Liam down the hall, the man having calmed down now but he was still clearly upset, he gestured down the hallway and looked at Harry once again.

“I’m going to have to tell Louis now. Would you like to be the one to let him know?”

Harry was reluctant to push away from the wall, afraid that once he moved his wobbly legs would finally give way beneath him and he'd crumple to the ground, becoming nothing more than a heap on the floor unable to do anything beyond stare. “H-How did we not catch his pregnancy sooner? If he's– if he's really twenty weeks, shouldn–”

“All pregnancies differ,” the doctor cut off, hand held up as he silently gestured for Harry to walk. “My understanding is that Mr–  _Louis,_  has a cryptic pregnancy. It is where the natural hormones that accompany a pregnancy, are lacking and leave no trace of the fetus. We wouldn't have even discovered he was pregnant if not for the mandatory ultrasound we do when abdominal bruising occurs.”

“Aside from the causes of an hCG deficiency in normal pregnancies, this usually happens when away from the mate for long periods of time after conceiving. Having sex with other people outside a kitten’s mating also puts a lot of stress on the body, because their biology is working to reject the other being. As such, if we choose to put him in the care of another person, as we discussed, we’ll also need to put Louis under a treatment plan. There are a few side-effects like nausea and fatigue, restlessness, the like, but depending on the circumstances, it would be a necessary course of action.”

They stopped once they were at the door of Louis’ room. “You have a choice to make. Nothing you decide makes you a bad person.” He nodded at Harry, before letting himself in.

The older man cleared his throat.

“Mr. Tomlinson…”

.

“I’ve been pregnant this whole time?” he asked quietly, staring at his bruised abdomen, eyes never having strayed from it since the doctor first broke the news. Three syllables is all it took to send Louis into a whirlwind of panic.

_You’re pregnant._

It was the first time he’d spoken after Hoffman entered the room. He cupped his stomach hesitantly, and looked up. How would this go down? “What happens now? Can I go back to my apartment? Does um, Liam know?”

He looked at Harry curiously when he entered. Did  _he_ know?

It seemed like the world was taking him for a ride. Playing a colossal joke on him.

 _Nothing he decides will make him a bad person,_ but isn't that exactly what he was? In his eyes, and the kittens eyes. A fetus didn't change that, didn't change his actions or his thoughts when he'd been doing it. At the time, he didn't know the fetus even existed. But now, none of that mattered. It didn't matter if Louis couldn't stomach the sight of him, or vice versa, because so much more was at stake now; something beyond the two of them, something far more innocent. 

And it was up to Harry to make the final decision, be the dom in this relationship, wear the fucking  _pants_  when he just wanted to run away and  _scream._

He doesn't want to let Louis go, watch as the kitten completely slips between the cracks of his fingers, grainy like sand but liquidy like water, giving you the false illusion that he could be caught once again— but he always slips away— disappears between the cracks, erasing any and all chances of him reenacting his stunt from the alleyway.

But—

Be as his heart may whisper, those are not his strongest desires. He wants to let Louis go, give him a chance at finding that one true love, at being enveloped in the fantasy land of a happily ever after and actually give their— kitten— hybrid—- fetus, thing a chance at a normal life; one as far away from Harry as possible.

He’s not  _good_. He’s… being called a monster after so long loses its meaning, the real  _punch_ behind the name, but he does follow along in his grandfather's footsteps and if that man has taught him anything, it’s that they’re not meant for the domestic life, never intended to belong in a stable family. And to believe that he has a real chance now, at the life he knew Louis could see with him in it, was a fools dream.

But maybe, just maybe, being a fool doesn’t sound too displeasing now.

“Liam’s here,” Harry said softly, unsure if he was permitted to speak or if Louis even wanted him to. He wasn’t used to this, to being the timid type who tip toes in the background but he was still that disgusting human in Louis’ eyes, and he wasn’t sure if the harsh twinge in his gut was because he liked the idea of being hated by the kitten, or if he was entirely against the idea; physically pained by it. “And– Ah,” he scratched the back of his neck, eyes looking at every available inch of surface in the room, as long as they didn’t land on Louis.

He couldn’t look at him, not yet.

“You have a decision to make. You can either be put on a treatment plan, and get sent to a facility until you have the baby. Or— Or,” and, despite his heart doing that stupid stutter thing when he finally let his eyes fall on Louis, he swears he was looking only to assure Louis was listening. (Right.)

“You can come home, with me,” he said it in a breath, a barely audible whisper, the idea of his loft being an actual home causing his blood to stir alive in his veins, humming with this happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. But he remained unfazed, neutral on the outside, knowing Louis could still reject his offer and nobody would blame him— Harry least of all.

He may now realize they are mates, and feel what Louis has felt this entire time, but that doesn’t mean that Louis  _has_ to feel the same as him, let alone  _want_  to. Harry has unpaved too many fucking paths, and now he was left standing on a rickety old bridge, expected to give all his trust to Louis when, if truly up to the kitten, he’d cut that thin rope at any given moment and finally get rid of Harry once and for all.

Yet, there was still that little shred of hope that kept him steady.

He didn’t deserve it, Louis or the fantasy family the kitten brought along with him, carried around like a purse, a shield, that extra layer used to protect him even if his heart wasn’t on his sleeve. The boy was sensitive, a sassy ball of hatred and bubbliness and before, that was everything Harry despised about him, the very thing that repelled him away from Louis. But now it was drawing him in, a stupid moth chasing that brightly lit flame and he wanted to burst into a ball of fire if it meant Louis got his fairy tale ending.

But he’d played his game, dealt the cards and when he decided he didn’t like the deck, he was shuffling it up and completely turned Louis’ life upside down; stretched him like he was laffy taffy and now, just because they knew he was pregnant, and Harry had accepted his bond but hadn’t vocally expressed it, he expected Louis to  _forgive_ him.

It was Louis who didn’t deserve this.

Maybe Harry should just leave the room? Lie and say he doesn’t want Louis, push him away to really give him that stupid chance. Them being together was unhealthy, more negatively so on Louis and their unborn child. Harry can’t just change because he’s flipped on that switch in his damned heart. He’ll still be an ass, blindly led by his heart and his jealousy is still a wildly flickering meter, broken beyond repair, and he can’t possibly ask Louis to accept that— to forget everything he’s done.

“I mean, if you want to. It’s up to you,” And still, there’s  _hope._

Louis’ eyes flickered around nervously.

“I  _don’t_ want that. Want to go to Li’s apartment,” he told Dr. Hoffman with a clipped tone, pointedly avoiding Harry’s gaze now.

Still keeping his eyes averted from his mate, choosing instead to watch his folded hands, he spoke again.

“I don't think you deserve to be in prison, but that doesn't mean I want you in my life. I  _don’t._ I want you as far away from me  _and_ this…” he looked down at his barely noticeable pooch.

The pregnant silence stretched on for a few moments as he tried to accept facts.

“ _My_ child.”

“Louis, I’d ask you to take some time to think this over and reconsider. Your pregnancy is in a very delicate place. Your mate’s presence will not only make it easier on your body, but the fetus has a better chance of healthy growth with Harry around. Just consider it. There are other options but they come with a cost to your health and a subpar fetal development.”

Louis shifted uncomfortably, mulling over what the doctor was saying.

“I'll let you both talk it out. We’ll need to keep you under overnight observation, but I can sign your discharge forms by tomorrow,” Hoffman said, nodding at both of them before leaving.

He sighed, eyes finally meeting Harry’s.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

Harry felt that poorly held breath fluttering along his lips, Louis' name a fierce mantra pounding away in his heart, yet he still somehow managed to keep from exhaling his simple answer of, “you,” that would not only weaken his ever hardening resolve, but stain the kittens eyes and ears with what he would assume to be false admiration. Feigned if only to trick and fuck him over further. “The most stubborn fucking kitten I've ever seen-- and it's not a compliment.” Harry said, and despite his choice of words, there were no trace of malice in his voice.

He was awestruck and irritated, almost completely gone for the kitten yet hating his very existence.

“I-- you don't  _have_  to forgive me, nor do I want you to. What I did was incredibly fucked up, Louis, but I did it so I wouldn't  _lose_  you.” His words were choked off, forced through a constricting airway. Regret was strong in his stance, the way his shoulders were hunched and drawn in, the way he was shifting his weight from foot to foot with restless movements and his head was slightly bowed, eyes fixed on the blanket covering Louis' body rather than the kittens face.

It was so out of character for him, to be this completely fucking unhinged with his body laden with remorse and disgust. Louis didn't need to forgive him, but he also didn't need to hate him. Harry was sure he could manage to do that enough for the both of them-- and if Louis  _didn_ 't come home, he wasn't sure he would be able to pull himself from the current long enough to keep from drowning. The thought of dying brought that fresh breath of air into his body he was lacking when Louis wasn't around, and it was his only hope to save himself from this fucking hell he's made.

But, even with his own self hatred boiling away beneath his skin when he was alone with Louis now, stomach churning as his body threatened to launch stomach acid across the room, he couldn't allow Louis and his hard headedness to jeopardize his--  _their_  child. “Whatever you feel towards me, do not let it change or let me forget the wrong I have done-- but don't put  _our_  child's life in danger because you're too fucking stubborn and lost in your own land of pity to see any other choice you choose that doesn't involve me,  _threatens_ the already  _weak_  fetus.”

“Stay in the guest room. Don't look at me or even talk to me, but come home with  _me_.” He was on the verge of pleading now, and somehow Harry had made it across the room in three hushed strides he didn't even remember, knees buckling as he fell to the floor by the side of Louis' bed, hands fisting the sheets to keep them off and away from Louis. He was denying himself a chance to touch what he burned so badly. “If I would have had  _any_  other choice, Louis, I wouldn't have done what I did. But you were  _dy_ ing. I could feel it. If I would have reached you even a minute later, you would have..”

 _Been dead_.

But he didn't need to speak that out loud, right?

And he didn't need to defend himself either, but he honestly didn't see any other way in convincing Louis. Clearly their bond was so frail the kitten couldn't sense what Harry was feeling, and were his memories muddled too? Water clogged with images of a savage Harry  _raping_  him? Did he not remember trying to kill himself in the most painful way a mate could when in the first few months of a bond.

He watched Harry speak, ears twitching rapidly the whole time. He had no idea why Harry would  _want_ this. He made it abundantly clear that he despised him. Didn’t give a fuck about him. The venom and pure hatred in his words then were just as real as the feelings the man was trying to communicate through their bond now.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. If you would have  _had_  any other choice you would have still  _raped_  me. Because this is all some sick game to you.”

His tone didn’t waver once as he spat that allegation. He didn’t hesitate to use such strong a word though he knew it wasn’t entirely true. But he remembered the look on Harry’s face as he finally took him. There was something almost demonic mixed in with that world of regret, desperation and self-disgust. All he knew was that Harry  _was sick_. And Harry  _wasn’t_  safe.

He looked up at the man slowly, eyes focusing in on the marks on his face.

_You would have…?_

“I would have been dead, Harry. Say it.” Louis locked eyes with him at that.

“And it would’ve been my choice.”

He looked down at his stomach. He would’ve killed his... child in the process too. With his  _choice._  Almost did, actually. He brought a hand up to his stomach and for the first time since learning of its inhabitant, caressed it. A slight wince graced his features from the faint bruises there. How could he have not known? His hand trailed the expanse of his abdomen, this time mind numb to the pain of the abrasions. Why didn’t he feel anything still? There was a tiny being growing inside him.

A tiny being Louis was going to bring into this world and give it the best life he could afford.

His frayed tail wrapped around his stomach in a tight, warm hold.

‘I’m going to protect you.’

He caressed his thumb against the skin of his stomach and spoke without raising his eyes from it.

“I’ll come with you,” he began.

“But the moment I give birth, I want you out of my life.”

“I’m going to go on suppressants and skip town, and you will be completely out of mine- and my child’s lives,” he said with a coldness he didn’t think he’d ever had in him.

Suppressants came with a laundry list of serious detrimental health effects. But it gave him the power to say this: “I’m not your bitch anymore.”

He wasn't Harry's anymore, never truly was and a dark part of the man, a part he didn't pay no mind to, didn't even acknowledge or play into the idea, wanted to just leave and let Louis fend for himself. But they'd played that game, haven't they? Ridden that carousel and this, the sterile hospital with bland walls and beeping machines, was where they ended up.

A faint, barely noticeable bump the outcome of a toxic game where they run around in a circle, spewing insults before or after fucking.

But it wouldn't-- couldn't be that way anymore, and if Harry had any chance at saving this, he had to be okay with that. Had to accept he didn't own Louis, not in the sense that meant anything.

There was one thing he was certain of though, one thing he would fight till his last breath for;

By the time the fetus–  _baby_  was born, Louis wouldn't want to leave. Suppressants would be out of the picture, the oncoming heats welcomed rather than dreaded. He would strengthen their bond and he  _will_ get Louis  _back._

 


	12. I'm Your Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, holy crap, HI! How long has it been since this website has seen me? I've scarcely been on social media as of lately, and I admit we have severely lacked on our updates but with the different time zones, an eight hour difference, we struggle to find time to write together and while it is upsetting, it is life. I'm hoping that we will be able to pick up our updates quicker, but I am making no promises. For now, though, I will give you this chapter and I wish you a Happy New Year.
> 
> Here's to 2019, and the endless possibilities this new year is providing us with.
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Xx

Louis didn’t say much for the rest of the night. Visitors came in and out. A hug here, some get well soon cards and flowers there. The only time he  _spoke_  was when he needed to use the loo. And for that, he’d page a nurse rather than ask for Harry’s help.

The last visitor happened to be Dylan. He looked at Harry questioningly, skirting around him to get to the sleeping boy. He sighed, taking in the damaged sight of him. The man gently interlaced their fingers and took a seat next to the bed. Louis stirred awake at that, a small smile gracing his lips when his gaze focused on Dylan’s comforting presence.

“Hey.”

“I’ve been meaning to do, say this for awhile,” he looked at Louis meaningfully, then shot an uncomfortable glance at the other man watching.

Noting that he didn’t plan on moving anytime soon, Dylan returned his attention to Louis. He leaned forward a little and kissed him softly. The boy stared on in confusion.

“I’ve known from the beginning that you wouldn’t ever truly be mine, but it was a nice fantasy to entertain.” He looked at Harry and spoke begrudgingly. “The point in fact is that… He’s your mate.” Louis followed his gaze to stare at Harry plainly. “And there’s nothing you can do to change that. And it was wrong of me to have expected that from you. The way I see it, you can both fight this to your last breath, but what will it all have been for?” He said to them both.

“I know that this is probably the worst time to say it, but you’re it for me, Lou. And I know that you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay.”

Louis smiled plaintively at the man, caressing his face.

“In a world where my choice counts, I’d choose you.”

He felt the hurt coming off of Harry in waves through their bond as he said it.

The words uttered weren't supposed to hurt him, lash at his already tattered heart the way they did. In his world, he didn't get  _hurt_  by things like this. Louis shouldn't  _have_  that kind of power over him, yet he did. And Harry couldn't change that, couldn't even look away from the intimate scene unfolding in front of him, drawing the jealousy out in his fastly beating heart while his stomach just completely dropped out of his body and his throat swelled shut.

Dylan was Louis' choice. Harry was his  _burden_.

“And in a perfect world,” Harry said, cutting them off while keeping his voice low, afraid if he spoke too loud his words would come true, “I never would have met Liam in high school.”

Liam introduced the two when he adopted Louis, and without him in the equation, this, the thing between them that Louis didn't  _want--_  the  _child_ , wouldn't exist.

And what a perfect world that would be, for all of them. Harry wouldn't have a chance to completely fuck up and ruin Louis' life, and lose himself in the process.

He was so lost to these emotions that came with their bond, he was confused as to what he should actually feel. It was only when he was touching Louis that it all silenced and  _finally_  made sense.

That obviously wasn't a choice now.

Knowing, or rather feeling, that he wasn't wanted, Harry stood without another word and left the room. His now untangled legs ached as he walked, begging to be turned around so they could return the way they came, desperately craving the close proximity to Louis. But he needed space, fresh air not full of Louis.

_Louis, Louis, Louis. Always Louis._

With his jacket pulled tight around his body, earlier used to hide the claw marks littering his skin, a reminder of how physical his mistake had been, Harry exited the elevator once it reached the bottom floor and walked outside, expecting to find some peace only to have an angry, ankle sized gremlin with an irish accent stomping towards him with a red face and waving fists. “I fucking trusted you, you nappy headed--” anything that followed, obviously wasn't important seeing as Harry didn't bother listening.

Instead, he leant against the wall by the sliding glass doors and let his head fall back to rest against the cool bricks, welcoming the evening chill. “Scolding three thousand and fifty. You'd think I'd have a fan club by now, yeah? All you fuckers already talk enough shit on your own, imagine how well you'd manage to keep up with my every move with all of you working together.”

Rolling his eyes, and leaning heavily into his sarcastic arseholeness, Harry patted his pockets for the cigarette he  _knew_  wouldn't be there, but suddenly craved.

Niall looked like his head was seconds from imploding. In a quick movement, the Irish gremlin was doing his best at cutting off Harry’s airflow. “You don’t get it. He’s been hurting all this time. And this is just… this is the last nail in the coffin, Styles. No one liked this situation, but  _I_  trusted you,” the younger man seethed. “You’re hopeless.”

He trudged away, glaring at the man.

.

“I’ve just signed your discharge forms. I believe we’re yet to hear of your decision,” Dr Hoffman asked, smiling tightly at the boy.

He watched as Harry entered just then, looking worse for wear. Louis sighed as he turned back to the physician. “I’m going with him,” he said quietly.

“Great. I’ve prescribed some vitamins and in case of any fevers in the next following days, an antibiotic. Just make sure to stay on a healthy diet and well-hydrated. You’ll need to find a gynecologist you’re most comfortable with, and I’d personally recommend that you both consult a hybrid mating specialist to work through your troubles. This,” he said, holding out a vial for Louis to take.”

“Is to stabilize your heats. Your sex drive will still be demanding, but less so than usual. Since your body is just coming out of all the trauma it’s been through, you’re going to have to refrain from strenuous activity including sex. I’m legally disinclined to prescribe this unless in dire circumstances. That should be all. I wish you a speedy recovery, Mr. Tomlinson,” Hoffman said, gracing them with a charming smile before he left the room.

“Alright then,” Louis piped up after a few minutes of silence. “Let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

Sleeping in a chair that didn't recline properly was apparently Harry's sentence as he tossed and turned all night, his kinked neck further worsening his dwindling mood as he stalked the hospital halls the next morning with only an hour of solid sleep tucked beneath his belt. He could have left, he realizes that but everybody already hated him. Leaving would only give them _more_  to talk about and he made the executive decision last night, when he  _wasn't_ sleeping, that he would prove them all wrong and  _not_  be the one to leave this time.

God knows he's done enough to be the topic of conversation at every thanksgiving dinner for years to come.

Yawn.

Shoving a crumpled dollar bill into the vending machine in his last hope at getting a cup of coffee to chase away the bags under his eyes, even stale ass, machine made coffee in a hospital, Harry grabbed the cup off the the side when the machine made a whirring noise and placed it beneath the nozzle before he pressed a random button. The black sludge that came oozing out honestly didn't look safe for human consumption, but at this point Harry was willing to try anything.

He'd just lifted it to his lips when a nurse with fluorescent pink hair passed him, breasts on display in her purposely low cut scrub top, and Harry was disappointed to say  _nothing_  stirred in his body. His fucking willy was laying dormant in his boxers and he couldn't say he wanted it any other way.

If he was stupid enough to be in denial before, he had his answers now.

_Fucking Louis_.

“Bloody fabulous,” he grumbled, upset stomach grumbling it's disagreement as he caught a whiff of the concoction in his hand.

Opting out on drinking anything that may lead to his death, Harry roamed around for awhile, just to stay a safe distance away from Louis to give him his space before being “forced” to go home with him. It wasn't until the nurse at the front station told him that Louis was already discharged, that he dared return.

And even then, he was fucking regretting this.

He could play pretend here, but at the loft, there was nobody there to keep him from himself. Who would hold him back if he suddenly snapped and hurt Louis again??

Nobody. And it was then he made another executive decision. Despite his feelings, or the hope to make the budding flowers go into full bloom, he would stay away from Louis. To protect him--  _and_  the… the…

_Baby._

..

“I don’t  _need_  your help,” Louis seethed, jerking his shoulder away from Harry’s hold and pushing past him into the guestroom. He shut the door at his face and slid down against it into a crouch that was none too gentle on his marked body. This was just ideal. He was now living with the very man that pushed him to his current state.

He stayed right where he was perched, for about an hour, only gathering himself up when his hindquarters felt numb. Louis entered the bathroom and splashed his face with icy water, then entered the room again with renewed focus. The memories riddled in every nook of the room, all the trails of his claw-marks in the wallpaper made mid-coitus, felt like taunts.

The bed smelt like sex. Louis scrunched up his nose at that. He bundled up the blankets, turning them inside out and set them against the wall in the far corner next to the windows. The kitten-boy ripped out the pillow cases before placing the bare, less sex-reeking pillows in his arrangement. He tittered about the room, finding little knick-knacks to add to his nest and then settled into it much like the feline that he  _was_.

At the stroke of midnight, he snuck out of the room, grabbed a packeted loaf of bread and rushed back. He munched on the bread disinterestedly, watching the street outside for occasional headlights and pedestrians. He’d eat a real meal when he didn’t have to be on the lookout for his ogre of a mate.

The attempt to stay away from Louis proved to be easier than originally thought as Harry tidied up the loft, resisting all urges to kick down the bloody door separating them and just make Louis  _realise_ he's being too fucking stubborn. Yes, Harry is a horrible human being who did something really fucking horrible, but he was  _trying_ and that had to mean something, right?

_Wrong_.

He fucking hates Louis for even opening this door in his life. He was perfectly content with hating the kitten from a safe distance and fucking other people. They never should have mixed their hate relationship with sex, and maybe, just maybe, Harry's life wouldn't be so fucked up and he wouldn't be cooking at one in the morning because he suddenly got a really strong craving for chicken and mashed potatoes.

Despite the distance between them, and the obvious effort Louis was putting forth in an attempt to silence their bond that was only amplifying in sound and strength the longer they stayed in the apartment, like it  _knew_  this was where it  _all_  began, Harry was still able to cook a somewhat decent meal for it being ass o-clock in the morning, and was somewhat timid when he approached the door to Louis' room-- that was in his own fucking home.

“Louis?” He asked quietly, knuckles raking across the wood before he attempted to turn the doorknob. It wasn't until he felt that overpowering sense of fear radiating through their bond, being shoved at him with full force, like a wave hitting into a surfer, that the magnitude of what he did  _finall_ y caught up to him.

This wasn’t just some fucking game of cat and mouse. He'd really scared Louis and a few empty words or feelings of emotions that had yet to be backed up, wasn't going to fix anything.

And for the first time in a truly long time, Harry was honestly horrified with himself as he took a stumbled step back-- his back hitting against the wall, the only solid foundation he had right now, being the only thing keeping him from falling on his arse like a fool.

“I-I didn't--” he stopped when he realized he was talking to the door, and these words would mean no more than the ones he's said before them. “I-” the ‘I'm sorry' died on his lips and he was quickly setting the plate on the floor as the urge to vomit struck through his body. “Your food is out here. I-I'll be in my room if you need anything.”

And he didn't wait for a response, not that he needed one. Louis hated him, that much was evident through the bond, and there was nothing Harry could do to fix what's already been done. Louis was  _afraid_  of him.

The fear pulsing through him was crippling when he heard the door-knob clatter. And it didn’t make sense. Harry was with him the entire night at the hospital. Maybe it had to do with the fact that here, in Harry’s apartment, they were alone. Here, he’d seen the first glimpse of the monster that Harry really was. Cold, ruthless, out to  _hurt._  And here he was again, two days later. In his own monster’s den.

That night, the dark edge to Harry’s soul had crept through in the way he shoved him with no apparent regard for Louis’ body. In the way that he spat venom-laced words meant to scar him. He’d only go on to set Louis’ new perception of him in stone the next day. He could grow accustomed to playing house with Harry but he couldn’t wipe out the image of the savage, delirious man taking him against his will. Raping him, violating him. He first took away his will to live, and then his choice to not. By raping him.

He stayed in his nest that night, practically immobilized from the anxiety raking up his spine.

The next day, he was out of the house before Harry was awake. He stayed outside for the day, not straying far enough to set off that antsy feeling he noticed taking over his body the further away from his mate he went caused by his otherwise dormant heat. The heat stabiliser was working well enough save for the light burn in his veins. He took a walk, he sat at a cafe for lunch and browsed through the papers for job opportunities. There weren’t much, but he’d need to find  _some_  way of bringing the doe in if he planned on taking care of this child by himself. He stopped at Niall’s in the evening and talked him into clubbing for the night.

Which... took a little work, seeing as he’d just gotten out of the hospital, but Niall came around. A few of the blonde Irish’s friends joined, and they had a decent time, until Louis decided he’d have to show up at Harry’s at some point of the night. He trudged into the loft at around 10 past 1:00 to find the man awake and pacing. Though the buzz of his pleasant night out took the edge off of his fear, it was still there when he closed the door to the apartment, leaving him alone with Harry.

The restlessness set in by ten the next morning for Harry, the events and realization from the following night a thin, poorly concealed layer on his heart that constricted with every beat. His eyes reflected what he was feeling, cloudy and swirling as he tried pinpointing and sticking with one emotion but it was a flurry. One minute he was pissed, bordering being reckless as he trudged into Louis' room, in search of some clue as to where he was. He wanted to  _hurt_  someone then, anyone.

Then it was this crushing sadness, no real reason backing the emotion, just this suffocating pressure that had Harry dissolving to a mess on the floor, a lump covered in sticky sweat as the floor opened and his delusions kicked in. The heat was easier on Louis, not Harry. He was stuck, couldn't  _run_. With the delusion came a rage, which would then sizzle into acceptance, depression hovering over him like a cloud, just out of reach but there to remind him that this, his life, was as good as it gets. He didn't need to think about or even accept the thought of a child, because he wouldn't be in it's life. Louis didn't  _want_  him in his life, and certainly wouldn't want him in their child's.

With a short explanation to his work, writing him off from his daily responsibilities at the company, Harry was given the next week off the help Louis settle in, and with that now a comfort that settled him down some, he began to clean.

Wanting to rid his loft of the lingering smell of Louis' slick and heat that were invisible tracks down his walls, floors and furniture. By five, everything was clean and he reeked of bleach. By six, dinner was cooked and the table was set. By seven, dinner still hadn't been touched and Harry found himself snooping through Louis' things. By eight, he was curled up on the kittens bed with one of his sweaters held against his chest, nose buried in the soft material where the smell was the strongest.

It reminded him of their life before, of what they could have been. But he knew he never would have accepted them, truly, without that harsh shove forward.

Midnight still found him in the same position on the bed, eyes unblinking yet he was still so unaware of his surroundings. His lungs were filled with Louis’ scent, the sweet floral clinging to the walls of his body. The sweater smelt like nothing now, and with a displeased grunt he was getting up and returning everything to their rightful place.

Then he was pacing. Reminded he hadn't ate on over two days when his eyes caught sight of the food  _still_  sat on the table, where it would remain untouched until tomorrow, when he scraped it in the garbage. He promised himself he would stay away from Louis, but promises were meant to be broken. He couldn't keep up with enduring this god awful itch beneath his skin, continuously reminding him his skin didn't fit quite right unless Louis was here, helping push everything towards the right corner of the room.

But it seemed like Harry thrived in the left.

The first thing that registered in his hyper-aware body was the stench of alcohol, overpowering and bitter as it clung to Louis. Almost as if it was his blood Harry was smelling. “Did you drink?” He barked, knowing the Kitten was terrified of him and using this tone of voice, cold and demanding, would only further upset him but he didn't  _care._

Louis couldn't afford to be this reckless. “Where the fuck were you?”

Louis flinched, visibly shrinking in on himself at the timbre in Harry’s voice. He side eyed the door behind him, and then looked back at the man he’d come to fear. Before he could move, he was up against the door, Harry’s arms a barricade around him.The boy let out a staggered breath as he felt those familiar ropes of anxiety begin to wrap around him in ruthless binds, threatening to hold him there, still in paralysis.

Tears welled in his eyes and his heart was plummeting to the soles of his feet. “I… wasn’t— I didn’t.” He could feel the breath of his mate, a threatening heat on his skin, making the sparse follicles of hair on his body stand in electrified uniform. He turned his face away from him, unable to hold his stare. Harry looked  _dangerous_. Green eyes piercing– menacing. His body was poised like a predator sizing up its prey.

Louis stared at the arm on his side. He could get out of this. He began to bare his fangs and elongate his claws, but at the very last moment, he looked back at Harry, sensing the deep need riddled in his veins. Harry may have thought this was about reproach, but Louis knew this was about more than that. Even with his best efforts to block out their bond, he could feel the desperate need for him crawling through Harry’s veins, like a fabric on his own skin.

He didn’t know where it came from, the sheer boldness it took, but with one convicting look at his mate, he was grinding up against him. The contact lightened the burn in his own body that had prevailed through the day, if only for that minute. It had surely taken Harry by surprise. Louis leaned forward on his tiptoes to place his lips on the sweet spot he knew was on Harry’s neck. Their arms fell limp against each of their sides, as the moment seemed to slow down to a near frozen-pace. In the moment that he saw Harry shed his defenses, he plunged his fangs into the man, breaking skin. When Harry backed up, Louis took his opportunity to shove him with all his might and put a safe distance between them.

“Don’t you fucking dare come that close to me. We had an agreement.”

The shock vibrated his entire being as his body burst into flames, the heat lapping at his calves as everything drew together. The fucking earth shifted, bringing with it the cries of the birds as everything reversed. The sky was the ocean, swimming with life and wrapping around his body was the fluffy cotton of the clouds. While it felt so right, and his fingers were finally able to brush the stars he's watched twinkle with stories of the past, it was ripped away before he truly had a chance to appreciate it all.   
  
He was thrust back in the present, and out of his hazy fantasy land, as teeth pierced his neck.   
  
Stumbling back, Harry hit the corner of his couch and with a low growl, he was suddenly flinging himself forward again and crowding Louis' space, full well knowing this would fuck things up more. "An agreement that should benefit the both of us seems more fitting, no? Why is it fair I accommodate your fucking wishes when you don't give a fuck about me?"  
  
His hand was curled against his own chest now, digging into his flesh as he urged in a tone teetering on whining, bordering begging-- desperation a rasp on each syllable. "Feel  _me_. You can't ignore me forever, Louis. I--"  _fuck._ He couldn't  _breath_

"I scare myself too, alright? I don't-- I don't know how to shut this all off!!"  
  
He was begging for silence, when all he has ever wanted was noise.   
  


“Get, _away_  from me,” he seethed, pushing Harry again, only this time he wouldn’t budge.

For once, he wasn’t the one at a loss, at Harry’s mercy. He was the one with the upper hand, this time. Wasn’t the pathetic little hybrid desperate for the attention of the man that hates him. The playing grounds were finally evened, and fuck Harry if he thinks Louis will play into his hands at a few falsities spewed in his moment of carnal need.

Louis squirmed in the little space between them.

“I don’t want this,” he said with a certainty that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let me go.”

“But you always come back,” Harry argued, and it wasn't until the words left his lips that he realized the weight behind them. Louis came  _back_  even though he had many other options, options that didn't involve Harry and would ensure there was enough space between them to keep his safety bubble intact. Everything Harry had used as an argument to get the kitten to come home with him was  _bullshit_ , and Louis knew it.

The baby had a better shot at making it to infancy if Harry just gave in and finally left.

“I get it, I'm everyone's favorite person to hate, but have you honestly not taken a second to think about how I  _feel?”_ Yes, he forced himself onto Louis and made him have sex, but he had been faced with a situation that with whatever decision he made, the outcome would still be the same; he's. nothing. but. a. monster.

And their feelings don't matter, right?

“Oh, you’ve made it precisely clear how you  _feel_ , Haz. I don’t need to hear anymore about everything wrong with my biology. Now  _let_ me the fuck go, or I’ll–” he looked around the room to gauge his options. The violent route was the way to go. He slashed at Harry to get him away and scampered into his room, making sure to lock the door behind him.

He waited with bated breath as the noises outside the room slowly dissipated alongwith the adrenaline seeping out of his body.

He had his doubts walking into this, but now more than ever, he knew that they couldn’t make this work.

 


	13. He Will Be Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who decided to rise from the dead and finally get back to this story.
> 
> Spoiler alert: Weee did.
> 
> That was an unjustifiably long wait, but life.
> 
> That's all I have to say. I hope that suffices as an explanation. 'Life.'
> 
> I'm sure everyone can relate, I think, I hope. Mooood, right? right. Riiiight. I'm high, I'm sorry mum.
> 
> Without further adieu,
> 
> Em out.

A man set out to do harm never deals out his plans and always hides, but never acts shady; plays like all his secrets are out on display to keep himself from being called out, discovered. Harry hid well for years, his harmful intentions being nothing more than to cause pain for himself, and everyone simply thought it was because he didn’t want to be happy.

And though he’s lead them to believe that, he somehow got confused along the way and decided he actually didn’t want to be happy. He was the miserable friend who always sought out companionship in bed to ease the ragged edge of loneliness that set in every night.

Harry thought his chances had already passed him, that he was beyond being saved and he was destined to spend his life fucking his way through the world. And then Louis changed that with one word, one small fucking word was all it took to blow Harry’s entire empire down to the ground, prove to him that he was worthless without someone to share everything with. 

And even though he lies to himself, says he’s only now discovering his feelings for Louis, he knows they’ve been there since the damned kitten first curled up at his side after sex. It wasn’t an obvious sign, a strong feeling, just the dawning moment when he found he didn’t want Louis to move. 

Then, yes, it all fell after that, but he lied. And would continue to do so if not for Louis’ stupidity, which, ultimately, is to be blamed on him too. He is destructive, always ruins everything good in his life and a part of him secretly loves that. 

But now, with his cold dinner laid out in front of him, a repeat that’s aired for the last week, he doesn’t think he likes it as much as he would if Louis would actually talk to him. Acknowledge the effects of a heat still lingering under his skin, even a week after it began, driving him towards the brink of insanity as his hormones thrashed through his body, throwing him back to his adolescent years when he was a horny ass teenager lost to pretty girls and big cocks. 

Louis has gotten better, and their arrangement has been smoothed out so now only a few bumps mare the otherwise flawless surface, but it wasn’t the same. The jabs made to hurt the other, even if it was said in a light tone or joking manner, still hurt and Harry was done trying to draw the funny out in this otherwise horrible situation. Yes, he could laugh all he wanted but even he realizes laughing can only help so much. 

And fuck, his heart hurt and his entire fucking body hurt. He didn’t want to be this god damn horny all the time and have nobody there to help take the edge off of it. Louis wouldn’t look at him, and Harry refused to touch himself as some sick punishment for his actions. He didn’t deserve to have any pleasure while Louis was still in so much pain. 

Speaking of, the kitten was locked away in his room, refusing to come out and eat dinner with Harry like he had the past seven days. He would eat, just not with the curly haired man. He hated being in his presence, or so he said. The bond spoke the truth, and it was telling him something completely different. He stayed quiet though, if only to maintain the peace that’s settled over them Iike a blinding cloak. 

But a fucking Harry Potter cloak can only hide so much. “Louis,” Harry called out, shifting in his seat to hide his half hard on that was a constant presence lately, an ache he refused to acknowledge. “Part of the agreement was we’d work on having meals together! You can’t fucking hide the rest of your pregnancy,” which, Harry was pretty sure he was attempting to do. 

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to go all savage caveman on me the first time we were in the same room, huh?”

It was shouted to be heard over the distance. Louis was effectively freezing his mate out. He’d stay outside, whether it be going to the corner cafe, the park, or locked away in his room, sprawled out in his... nest. He was running out of his saved up allowance, which was a pretty clear indication that he’d need to start pulling his slack soon enough. 

It was no easy feat for a hybrid to find employment. Their kind typically didn’t have easy access to education, and therefore weren’t qualified for paid jobs. He knew of a very few elite human-hybrid families that went to exclusive private schools. A hybrid’s status in life was determined at birth or matrimony. Louis wasn’t dealt a good hand but he’ll be damned if he didn’t do everything within his power to afford his unborn child the luxuries he didn’t grow up with.

Although, sometimes– just sometimes, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He had no clue how he was going to get his life together before bringing into the world, another being he was supposed to take care of. It was terrifying, to put it lightly.

And the walls of solitude he’d built around him weren’t exactly helping.

He sighed and stood up to dust himself off fastidiously before peeking his head out of the small crack he opened the door up to. He let himself out, watching the other man from the distance precariously, as he made slow movements towards the kitchen.

“Stop fucking staring, your bug-eyes are going to fall out.”

He took a seat.

“I’m here to ask you a favor.”

Harry has never rolled his eyes harder in his life, but he sucked up his comments, ready to fire back with something equally as rude or sarcastic, and gestured towards the floor, hoping his lack of words wouldn’t interfere with his want for Louis to get his favor out of the way. 

His spaghetti was cold, and he was quite ornery. Sleep didn’t exist in this apartment anymore, and he wished he could say he’s managed to eat something more than the few nibbles of a granola bar. His stomach was caving in, and it was like his body was rebelling against him. If Louis wasn’t practically glued to his hip (Louis’ on his hip?), he couldn’t stomach any food. 

“I need a job. I don’t exactly have the requirements tucked under my belt. I, um… I was wondering if you could maybe talk to someone…” seeing the amused look on Harry’s face Louis swallowed, wanting more than anything to backtrack. “Nevermind, was a stupid fucking idea anyway,” he grumbled, standing up.

Harry hid his forming grin behind fingers as he brushed his bottom lip, which was chewed raw and sensitive and he was cringing on the inside, and cleared his throat to try and banish the awkwardness that seemed to take over Louis’ body. “Louis,” he said, smug as he leaned forward with elbows propping on the table so he could rest his chin in his open palms. “If you need money, all you have to do is ask. Despite your wishes, and greatest attempts, I am still your mate. Savage caveman-ery or not, you are my responsibility.”

Louis looked up at the man, a fire building in his glare. “That’s not what I asked,” he gritted, scraping his chair back noisily. “You’re such a pompous douche,” he yelled over his shoulder, trudging away.

“No, but it is what I am offering,” Harry yelled back, standing as well as he followed behind Louis, mirroring a scolded puppy following its owner like an obedient little bitch. “Your pregnancy is already high risk. You either accept what I am offering, or you go broke. But without my permission, nobody will hire you.”

“Distance,” Louis warned, backing up.

He stared at the man incredulously. “Your permission?” He almost sputtered. “You can fuck right off if you think I need your permission for anything.”

“You may not feel you need my permission, and while that is honestly upsetting, I still manage to rest well enough at night,” lies, “but every hybrid friendly company requires consent from the kittens owner/mate before hiring them.” Shrugging, in a way that said, “Sorry love, you’re up shit creek without a paddle,” Harry took that step back that Louis warned him of. 

Louis looked like he was moments from exploding. Fucking infuriating Harry with his fucking valid points.

With that last thought, Louis was locking himself away for the rest of the week, huffing and puffing about his room and only coming out for food when he knew Harry wasn’t meandering the open spaces in his loft.

Harry, far too pleased that he’d momentarily found his footing and managed to pull the pants up even one leg, managed to eat a small portion of spaghetti that night before he found his bed. 

He made a mental note that night to set Louis up his own account through the bank, wanting the kitten to have access to money but also not wanting to give him his debit card. Although he had more than enough money to keep them afloat for a while, he’s seen the dent Louis put in Liam’s account and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake. He’d give the kitten a weekly allowance, making it so he couldn’t withdraw or spend more than what was on his card. 

The rest of the week passed with little sight of Louis, but Harry made good on his promise and did set the kitten up his own account and gifted him the card late one evening, only for Louis to cut it in half and throw it at him— which, in all honesty, wasn’t that surprising but he followed that with a few yelled insults and a shoe being chucked at Harry’s head. 

The man didn’t try that again, but he did slip a new card under his door the following day, hiding away safely in his room to miss any flying objects. And he was too prideful to admit he didn’t bring up the entire ‘card’ thing again, at least not until he knew Louis was too desperate for money to care where it came from.

.

The next week saw Louis venturing out into the living room and the rest of the house in small strides of confidence. However, anytime Harry deemed himself comfortable enough to invade his space by even 20 feet, he was hissing at the man- yes, full-blown feline hissing until he was a farther distance away than the pre-established comfortable length they began with.

On Monday, Louis decided to actually show up at a job interview. He was going to try his luck with his natural charm. The job he was looking at paid the minimum wage but it was something. If this didn’t work out, he’d max out on Harry’s card for a startup and make the man regret throwing his pity money Louis’ way.

“Louis Tomlinson,” the lady at the desk called out after a few boring hours of sitting idly and plotting creative ways of murdering his mate.

“Mr. Sternberg will see you now.”

Louis cleared his throat and straightened out his too-tight shirt collar before entering the large, imposing office. 

The burly man at the desk in the middle of the room assessed him with an annoyed scowl. “I’m sorry, who let you in?” he asked impertinently, slamming his fist on the intercom, not sparing the kitten-boy another glance. “There is literally a sign on the front doors of my building that says ‘no animals’.”

Louis stared back at the man, at a loss of words.

“Well, there… there’s a sign of a cross over a… dog?” Louis stuttered, suddenly very nervous.

“Dog, cat, ‘s all the same, all a bunch of mangy rodent beasts,” the man grumbled, impatiently hitting the intercom through its dial tone.

“Excuse me?” Louis voiced in disbelief.

Hybrids were fairly common and well-accepted for the most part in their world today, so this was befuddling.

The man either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to care about working the boy up. “Did you go through a flea check before coming here?” he interrogated apathetically. 

Louis glared at him, fury building with every degrading remark the man made. He could end this bitch right here with one strategically placed slash of his claws, but that would… only prove his regard for him right. He could cause enough mayhem in this room to be remembered by, but this pathetic mannerless human wasn’t worth being locked away over.

Louis, much like in many low points of his life, felt defeated.

He turned and walked away from Mr. Sternberg mid-sentence.

He didn’t go hom– to Harry’s loft, straight away, choosing instead to walk around a quaint neighborhood on the way. It was dark out when he finally decided to get back. The boy stuck to small, innocuous clusters of people to avoid unnecessary trouble. He hadn’t been outside by himself this late in a very long time. 

When he shut the door to Harry’s apartment, he was instantly bombarded with Harry’s indignance. He groaned and ignored the man, deciding he didn’t want to deal with his bitching, and had no obligation to. He simply hissed at him and walked away. It was becoming a habit. A habit he quite enjoyed. It was fun to see the annoyed, constipated look on Harry’s face when he was at a loss of how to respond to this new tendency.

The hiss, though he knew it was to scare him off, a warning to back away and give him space before he attacked, only annoyed Harry to the point he was tempted to sew Louis’ mouth shut and see how far he got without his pretty little canines and the ridiculous noises he made. Threading fingers through his hair to brush the curls back and out of his face, Harry threw the stack of papers he’d been holding on the table, a new project he’d started since returning to work and just decided to peak at out of boredom, and followed the grumbling kitten through the front room. 

He could sense something wasn’t quite right, something had happened that upset the kitten, but there wasn’t a point in asking. He would get yelled at, told it was none of his business before the kitten threatened him and told him to ignore their bond, much like he was. So he did ignore it, even if it was just for the time being. “I haven’t the slightest idea when you decided hissing at me was alright, and disappearing all day without so much as a clue as to where you’re going would be fine, but I’m getting tired of it. Your attitude needs to improve Louis, and you either need to start taking our arrangement more seriously or I’ll just completely ignore my end of the bargain too.” 

Meaning, but not quite literally, he would touch Louis any time he liked, would crowd his space and erase all distance without worrying about the repercussions because Louis didn’t. 

Louis rolled his eyes hard enough to expect them to stay stuck that way. Harry’s endless prattle was getting on the boy’s nerves. He mimicked the man with his back turned to him and continued on towards the kitchen. “Where do you get off speaking to me like that?” He grouched, looking around for something to eat. “You're not my father. I don't answer to you.”

He leveled a fiery glare at the man as he spoke again. “And I told you, I'm not, your bitch anymore. Remember we tried that? Perfect little submissive bitch, at your beck and call, blew up in my face and all?” He snapped heatedly

“If you don't keep your end of the bargain, so help me God, I'm dragging your ass to court, Harry, I swear. And I will make damn sure you don't get to see our child come into this world,” the boy seethed. He didn't really think about the gravity of his threat, didn't even know if it would garner any kind of reaction to imply that Harry cared, but it just happened to slip past his mouth before he could second-guess himself. 

The water doused on him was enough to suffocate his flickering flame that sparked in his chest the moment Louis walked in, but quite the contrary, actually. It seemed to fuel the flame, help smother it just enough that it suddenly flared hot, licking at his orbs as he countered back, “See who will win in court. A stable human with the financial means and mental health to support a child, or a lowly hybrid with mental health issues and a history of suicidal tendencies.”

He hasn’t given much thought to the child beyond his persuasions at the hospital to get Louis to return home with him, but even then he hadn’t actually laid claim to it. In his mind, it didn’t exist. It was a small pebble amongst other large boulders, so insignificant compared to everything else, but apparently he didn’t take too well to being threatened when the… fetus was involved. 

“And I need to take this arrangement more seriously? What the fuck am I doing here, if not that?? Do you think I enjoy living with my fucking rapist?! Do you think that I can just erase that whole part of all of this out of my mind?” He was shouting, “If your idea of me taking this more seriously is being the hole you cram your cock into, think the fuck again, Styles. And here’s an idea, why don't you go work it out with one of your whores. It’s only fitting and I'm sure you have no shorta–” he cut off in a sharp gasp, hand flying to hold the bottom of his stomach. His mouth stayed agape with quick pants falling out, eyes prickling with tears.

He was keeping it going, continuing on with the same old prattles and blameless rants about Harry being the only monster in here, when Louis began it all. Harry has been so fucking blind with self resentment, refused to acknowledge that there was always two sides to a story and he wasn’t entirely to blame for what happened, but now, the truth was rearing its ugly head and he was done.

Sex be damned, heats be damned. He didn’t want Louis so he could just shove his cock in him and call it good, satisfy the urges he’s had since the week at the hospital. If all he wanted was to get his dick wet, he’s proved more than enough times that he had the means the fulfill his desires. A little imagination and any hole could be the one he wanted, the one he craved, an insatiable hunger that would swallow him hole if he allowed it. 

But, god fucking damn it, he wanted Louis. He thought he proved that by allowing the kitten his space, letting him wander unaccompanied outside the loft at all hours of the day, and even stretching into the night. He was following the rules of the arrangement and had, in fact, managed to silence the endless stream of Louis’ emotions the best he could because he was trying. Thrown into his first domestic relationship with a child being the cherry on top, and he thought he was doing fine. Sure, he had his slip up at the beginning but Louis was killing himself.

Harry wouldn’t have saved him if he’d been promised the guilt and pain would kill him seconds later, end their suffering and erase all hatred either one may have felt. 

But just as quick as their argument was starting, it was ending and all it took was that one look from the kitten. Harry hesitated, didn’t have permission to touch but he did so anyway, ignoring his brains screams that touching wasn’t permitted. Scooping Louis up in a bridal style hold, Harry ignored the way his entire body sagged as a sigh escaped his lips, his heart finally feeling full and complete with Louis so close to him. 

Then it was over as he set the kitten down on the couch and took a step back, respecting Louis’ need for distance while also maintaining his own level of worry by hovering. “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice breathless and low as his eyes flickered over the kittens body with worry, taking it all in to see if he could catch sight of anything visible that could be harming him. “Is it—- is the baby fine?”

Tears streamed down his face with no warning. “I– the, I think it... just moved,” he almost whispered, ruthless words forgotten for now. He looked up at Harry, a world of emotions taking residence in him as he brushed his hand against where he felt the gentle movement. This whole time, he almost dreaded the confirmation that he was in fact, carrying a child inside him, but he just– he needed the sign, and here it was. Nothing could compare to the overwhelming surge of feelings going through him at that moment. There were so many that he didn't know what to do with them. He bit his lip and locked Harry with a piercing gaze, spilling into their bond with abandon. 

He sobbed. “I thought,” he began, confounded at what to say, how to say it. “I couldn't feel anything this whole time, and it's been weeks,” he hiccuped in between words. “I thought it was… but now, it’s all just so much more real, and I don’t know what I'm doing Harry I can't–” he broke off in a pitiful sob. It didn't make sense that not a moment ago, they were ripping each other new ones, and now he was pouring his bottled up thoughts to the man.

“There’s a baby in me,” he whispered like it was new knowledge.

Harry watched as Louis' fingers curled beneath his bump, as if he was trying to show him the proof of his statement, offering the barely visible lump on his tummy like it was a pregnancy test. And he was the dumbass that blinked in confusion, the swarm of Louis' emotions overpowering his own and for some reason, he felt like he was just now being told there was an actual child in there. A living, breathing thing that he helped create. 

But he would never have a chance to feel it before it came out in the world, even if his fingers did itch to do so. Curling them up so his fingernails were digging into his palms, Harry offered a breathy chuckle, hiding his true reaction behind false humor. “Has been for months, love?” And the nickname, pet name, fell so easily from his lips, even if he knew better. He wasn't supposed to use endearing names, and he wasn't supposed to touch. 

He didn't care about Louis, yet he was going against his bodies very will, and denying him the satisfaction and feeling of wholeness to give Louis all he wanted; a world with as little Harry as possible. 

And suddenly, he felt like he was intruding.

When Harry made to move, Louis panicked and fell against his chest, inhaling the man’s scent after what felt like ages. Same smell, and it had the customary effects of a mate’s scent, but Louis’ body didn't trust it anymore. Still, he stayed plastered to the man through the bouts of anxiety ripping through him.

Stiff as a board to keep from making the wrong move and sending Louis back into his downward spiral of anxiety, sure to make the kitten hate him again, Harry kept his arms strictly at his side. If not for the shock, he was sure that would be impossible. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly, unsure if Louis even heard what he’d said and now that he actually had a moment to think, he didn’t want his words to be heard. He was just drunk on the feeling of being this close to Louis. 

And his little slip as he got caught up in the moment, lead to his arms moving around the kitten out of pure instinct.

Louis pulled away abruptly when he felt arms try to wrap around him. He couldn't handle feeling confined around Harry. Not yet. He didn't think he could, ever again. “This doesn't mean I’m going to stop hissing at you,” he informed, slinking back to his side of the couch.

.

Later that night, Louis got up to fix himself the meal that he hadn't gotten around to actually having. He gave Harry a throwaway glance, choosing not to say anything to the man. His mind was a whirr of insults– in a range of different voices, and too-real memories of rough tugs at his sensitive and then-smaller ears. The vision of his 11 year old self with scissor marks on his additional appendages, mewling as blood trickled down his hair and onto his face was sealed behind his eyelids. Going to sleep just wasn’t easy on the boy, some days.

Harry was saying something, he realized distantly, but continued cutting his sandwiches up stoically as he did. He watched one kitten ear flicker in the blurry reflection of the kitchen knife. 

Pathetic little rodent bitch

Mangy rodent beasts

Hey look, it's the cat-freak

His hand, reached up to touch the soft fur on the back of his ear, still watching his reflection on the knife blankly. He focused in on the gleam of its cutting edge.

The boy dropped the object on the island counter with a noisy clatter.

“I was thinking,” he began like the silence in the room was only just broken.

“There are surgeries,” he mused. “To um,” the boy swallowed uncomfortably. “Our child… will have feline characteristics. I want to get rid of them. It's advisable to get that out of the way at birth, so you'll need to sign off on that on our birthing plan. If we’re having one- which, I want a birthing plan,” he rambled in a tone, that to anyone else, would've sounded apathetic.

Once again, his questions fell on deaf ears as Harry yet again put himself out there, asking for the hundredth time if Louis was up to going out for dinner, only to get ignored completely. Sipping at his coffee, cold now with the bitter edge not at all lessened with the mounds of creamer he’d put in, his nose wrinkled and he made a mental note to never make the coffee when in a pissy mood. 

Watching the kitten sway as he was lost in his own world, entrapped in the shimmering blade once used to cut a sandwich but was now held motionless in the air, Harry was quick to realize something was wrong with Louis. He was shielding his feelings, but his walls were weak and Harry was easily able to snake past them, only to have the suffocating sensation and overwhelming feeling of not belonging— hidden behind a suggestion that was really poorly masked worry for their child. 

“And take away what makes him— it, unique? Yours? I think not. He is our child, Louis,” Harry said, accidentally slipping each time with addressing the fetus as a ‘he/him’ but it felt right. “Regardless of his physical appearances, and your resentment for them, it is a kitten, Louis. And he will be perfect.”

Unique? Louis let out a deprecatory scoff. He could distinctly remember at least 5 other not-so-appraising synonyms the man had for it. He watched his trembling hands quietly until Harry was done talking. “You don't get it.”

“You never will.”

Louis didn't want to be right. In a perfect world, his son or daughter would be wholly accepted for their beautiful cream spotted ears, an exotic patterned tail. Cooed over the occasional meow that left them in a lazy moment. And yes, even in their imperfect world, there would be people to appreciate all of that, but there were also the people who didn't. And went to far lengths to express that.

He felt his chest grind at the thought of his baby kitten being ridiculed for something they were born with.

“I'm their mother. This is my call.”

“And I’m their father,” Harry said, acting like that actually meant something, but in this world, being the father meant little more than claiming you were the cousin. They had little right, unless the mother was proven unfit. 

“Well, I'm the one that's going to be in his life,” Louis shot back with an untameable fire.

The stuttered breath that flared Harry’s nostrils caught in his throat as he choked on a response. “Yes, well,” and he was at a loss for words. “The fact that you’re so hell bent on taking away our child’s identity before it’s given a chance to decide on their own, makes me question how fit you are to be a parent.”

Taking a calming breath, he continued. “And you’re right. I’ll never understand what it’s like living in this world as a kitten, but I will be damned if I project my own fears and insecurities on my child because of words said in the past. Times have changed Louis, fucking remember that.” 

Louis couldn’t believe or handle the anger that was raging through him. “What the fuck did you just say?” He drawled, maternal instincts coming out of seemingly nowhere at the threat of being pronounced unfit to take care of his own child. He wanted to quite literally gut Harry in that moment. The adrenaline fueling him forward was its own entity as he closed the distance between them to shove his mate. “What the fuck do you know about my life? And that's a little rich coming from you, don't you think?” The boy all but growled.

“You know what?”

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

A promise Harry didn’t know if he could fulfill.


	14. And he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope this chapter fucks you up just as much as it did Em and I. Truly, we never set out to cause such heartbreak and we question our own sanity and warped minds quite often, but we have yet to be stopped so.... HERE YOU ARE. You can weep with us. This is a cool chat, where you can cool cry. No judgement. XD
> 
> Now, with life out of the way and video games forgotten, I hope you all enjoy this and use this small rollercoaster to prepare you for the absolute shit show we have planned for next chapter.
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Xx

A hybrid boy could only go so long without sex after having a taste for it, and not lose his mind. The pregnancy hormones didn’t help and neither did the fact that his biologically acclaimed mate was a door or two away. Which would bring us to why Louis was currently a writhy mess in his nest, trying to fit another finger inside him and sobbing when it did nothing to assuage his burning need for that  _ release.  _ The boy swung onto his front, ass high in the air, one arm splayed unceremoniously ahead of him to keep his balance and the other twisting behind him. His fingers drilled in and out of his hole desperately, and when he finally felt them graze his prostate, Louis’ eyes rolled to the back of his head with mewls spilling out of him in great abandon.

He bit his lips raw to quieten himself down and continued jabbing at his sweet spot. The boy was engulfed in a heady sensation. Just… a  _ bit, more.  _ He felt that sweet, white-hot coil of pleasure unfurl in his lower abdomen. The boy flipped onto his side and brought his other hand to tease his cock until he was cumming with a muffled yell.

He dropped onto his side limply, sighing and brought a hand up to cradle his strained neck. When the post-coitus sense of floating dissipated, his focus centred in on the door, watching it with a blank expression. He could feel his mate’s arousal leaking into their bond copiously. He smirked. Good. Harry could suffer for all he cared.

There wasn’t much said between them, following their last argument. Their child wasn’t even born yet and they were arguing over him- or her. That said a lot about whether or not they were capable of co-parenting and giving the unborn being a stable environment. Louis will be damned if he brought his little kitten into this mess. He’d be gone before Harry could sink his claws of chaos into their perfect mummy-kitten bubble. 

After a few minutes of lying still in thought, Louis picked himself up and logged on to his pc, getting on a number of websites he hadn’t visited before. He picked out what he was looking for and added to cart, but when he tried to check out, he was stopped by a few requirements on the billing details form. He groaned loudly, slamming the lid shut in annoyance. He wasn’t  _ that _ desperate.  _ Yet. _

It took him a day or two to come around, to his credit. And when he did, he trudged up to his mate, an image of sex. Lips bitten red, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip and collar bones, dusty pink coating his cheeks, and eyes effectively blissed out. He looked wrecked. And he  _ knew _ what it was doing to Harry. Knew the smell of his slick was a thick shroud around him,  _ inviting. _

Maybe this was a dangerous game to play, but he was intent on torturing the man. Plus, throwing Harry off his game would help.

“Need your credentials,” he said sheepishly, refusing to meet the man’s eyes.

The loft was heavy with tension, the argument left unfinished, words still not spoken or brought to life but desperately wanting to and being kept hidden on a slick tongue. Harry had nearly slipped a number of times, fought when he really just wanted to fuck and give into the insatiable urge that was becoming harder and harder to ignore the more Louis fingered himself. The thin walls did little to hide the noises, not to mention through the bond Harry could feel almost every little thing Louis could, spiking his arousal without giving him the satisfaction of finishing. 

He  _ refused. _

As the days rolled by, and his sexual arousal only peaked more and more each and every second that ticked by on that agonizingly slow clock, Harry felt himself giving in. The wood on the table was scratched, half moon shapes chipping the once beautiful and perfect surface. His lips were chewed raw, bloody and paired perfectly to his blood shot eyes, barely open with dark bags hanging beneath them, signifying his sleepless nights and restless days. He had to continue moving, never stopping, never straying long enough to actually pay attention to everything vibrating off of Louis.

Today was one of those rare days that he found himself a hump of lead on the couch, feet propped up on the table with his eyes closing even if they struggled to remain fixated on the images passing in a blur on the television. 

Louis snapped him out of his daze, drug him back to the land of the living and if it wasn’t for the blurry edges surrounding the kitten, Harry was sure all his self control would have slipped if he’d had a chance to actually register the way he looked— smelled. But he offered him a quick glance before returning his eyes to the television, passing him off like he was nothing; not even worthy of his time. “And why is that? Seems to me I’ve offered you plenty of chances to have them, and you’ve done everything in your power to assure me they’re  _ not _ what you want.” 

“Can’t get a vibrator without them.” Blunt. Very blunt. It at least afforded him the amusement of Harry’s eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

“Okay, you can either get me my toys, or I’m going to go out, and fuck the next thing that moves. And I’m pretty sure, you wouldn’t want just about any faceless stranger that close to your child,” Louis said, sickly-sweet. 

He wouldn’t actually. Didn’t think he could for awhile at least. Just the thought of anyone getting that close to him physically was suffocating. But he knew their child was a sensitive topic with Harry. He’d seen the way his mate’s eyes stayed plastered on his stomach in wonderment, how his hands twitched and raised before falling beside him in a repressive clench of fists.

And it was wrong– he knew, to use that against the father of his child, but Louis…

Louis was bitter.

And now, every day was a new opportunity to try and hurt Harry the way he’d hurt him.

At least on his bad days. It was very apparent by now that the pair should have taken Doctor Hoffman’s advice and started therapy a long time ago.

Harry almost reacted, almost played into the little game, fitting the psychopathic human obsessed with ruining their partners life, but his tired brain lagged for a second and in that split second he was able to catch a glimpse of the twinkle in Louis’ eye. He was bluffing. Shrugging, and trying to appear as unfazed by Louis’ declaration as he possibly could, Harry blindly reached for the hunk of plastic lounging on the arm of the couch and pointed it at the tv, muting the quiet voices that seemed to be screaming in his head.

Standing up from the couch, and gently nudging past Louis, Harry walked over to the kitchen table and fished the card out of the top flap. “I have offered you my money twice, which you have declined each time. This is the last chance you have at accepting what I am offering, otherwise you can starve to death as you fuck yourself on a door knob. Now, leave me alone. I-I’m tired,”

He was gentle with his movements as he paused in front of Louis, holding the card up and in between their two bodies before he leaned off to the side and set it on the little side table. He willed his heavy eyes to stay open, to not betray him and show just how much proof laid behind his words. He was tired, of everything. Louis didn’t want him, and he thinks it was that realization that finally had that small rubberband in his brain snapping, denying him a chance to care for anything beyond the small sliver of hope he had that he would see the fetus be born. 

_ His child be born. _

With shoulders slumped forward, appearing as if he had the worlds weight resting on them, Harry turned around with a heavy sigh and began the slow trudge back to his room. He didn’t care that his feet were dragging behind him, that the small thump of his heart was begging for Louis to finally feel it. He just wanted some  _ rest.  _

“Have.. fun, I guess?” he sounded so unbothered, so robotic with that simple response that it terrified even him.

Louis looked up at Harry’s tired, retreating form.

“Harry…”

His lithe fingers were wrapped around the man’s wrist before he knew it. Sunken eyes met his, and Louis didn’t know what he meant to say. His mate raised an eyebrow in question.

The boy opened his mouth and closed it.

“Nothing,” he clipped, hand letting go and dropping at his side. His gaze dropped in uniform with it.

“I’m going to assume there’s no budget,” he piped up as Harry made to leave again.

.

The next day, Harry hadn’t come out of his room. And well, that was alright. At first. And then, when it came to the three day mark, it was concerning. Louis stewed in silent debate when he wasn’t getting himself off. Eventually, he swallowed his pride and knocked at the man’s door.

When there was no answer, his stomach churned. Without much further thought, he opened the door and peeked his head in.

There Harry was, asleep in a sitting position against his headboard. A mess of papers surrounded him, filling the bed and spilling onto the floor, and on his nightstand, a quarter-eaten pack of saltine crackers and a water bottle.

Louis bit his lip, inching closer,

Making a quick decision, he tidied the papers into a haphazard stack on Harry’s nearby desk chair and made his way to the kitchen. He brought back a tray of easy-to-make food with him and stood idly, debating whether to wake the man or set it on his desk and go away.

Before he could make that choice himself, Harry was stirring awake at the noise, and Louis stood paralysed and fish-mouthing.

“You um,” he began unsurely, “should stop being a dick and feed yourself something before you die of malnourishment.”

He meant for a tone of condescension, but only managed to strike an over-compensatory cocky, yet insecure voice.

“You should eat,” he rephrased.

Sarcasm immediately tainted his thoughts as Harry sat up, vision blurry and neck cramped from the god awful position he’d eventually fell to sleep in. He remembered little to nothing from the night before, just this sense of pettiness fueled with the underlying hint of hatred. He kind of hated the kitten, as much as he hated himself for thinking so. Louis has done nothing wrong, nothing that wasn’t understandable or easily brushed off. He hasn’t strayed beyond their… mating requirements, hadn’t slept with anyone else and the hatred he was projecting at Harry wasn’t surprising. 

Yet, he still hated him for  _ everything _ . For putting him through all this bullshit, for having to go into heat that damned day that Liam left. 

“Thanks for worrying,” Harry barked, trying to remain calm but an iciness lined his words, hardened them as he threw his legs over the edge of his bed. “But I’m not hungry,” which was obviously a lie. He hasn’t at a solid meal in days, was just surviving on crackers and water and even then they did nothing to ease the constant pains shooting through his gut.

Louis ignored the man’s comment, rolling his eyes at him. He instead chose to distract himself from the silent tension hanging over them. He did  _ this _ by making a show of rummaging through Harry’s things. The boy debated just leaving the room, but a tiny _ , tiny,  _ part of him wanted to make sure Harry would get through his meal.

“Harry just stop and eat your fucking food. I don’t always get my gourmet skills on for just about anyone,” he snapped and stepped closer to shove the food at him.

“What is this anyway?” he asked curiously, picking a paper up from the big pile by its corner.

“And all these papers, is this some kind of kink I should know about, mate o’ mine?”

As annoyed as he was to be woke up to nothing else but the very boy he’d spent the past three days hiding from, Harry couldn’t deny the small flutter he felt in his stomach at the sight of the crappy food at the end of his bed. Louis couldn’t cook to save his life, yet there he was, and there his poor attempt at feeding his mate laid. It was a silly thing, really, but for a split second Harry felt his heart thaw until he looked up and caught sight of the bruises still wrapped around the kittens wrists, now faded into an off yellow color with black dark ridges around it.

“Yeah, well, as I said, not hungry.” He mumbled, still as stubborn as ever, trying to brush off the memories that began to resurface from the alleyway.

Huffing, Harry stood on wobbly legs and stretched before he picked up the stack of papers he assumed Louis had gathered up, and set them on his desk. “Most of it is work I’m catching up on,” he said, keeping out the fact that the majority of it wasn’t actually for work, or rather it hadn’t quite yet reached his bosses eyes. He was dabbling in his own brain, attempting to draw up the blueprints of a clinic he seen in his mind, yet it wasn’t coming out  _ quite _ right. Something was missing, and he couldn’t figure out what.

Louis jerked away from the stack of papers when Harry approached them in an unexpected reflex. He wanted to say he was sorry at the brief glimpse of apparent hurt(?) that earned him, but what would he be apologizing for?

“Okay then. Suit yourself,” he said glancing annoyedly at the pitiful tray on Harry’s bed. The dickhead could clean it up himself for all the trouble he’d gone to to reject Louis’ attempt at playing house.

“And… well, you’re good,” he said awkwardly, gesturing at the stack of papers, now standing tall on the man’s desk. “Like,  _ really  _ good.”

“Although I’m not sure if my opinion counts for much. I make a unicorn doodle look like a dick when I try to get artsy.”

It took him a moment to overthink his statement before he was floundering for a clarification.

“Which– I didn’t mean, I’m not trivializing your work, I just meant,” the boy groaned and looked at the doorway. “I’ll just um,” he pointed a thumb at the door, “go.”

The small talk wasn’t something Harry should get used to, couldn’t enjoy because it wouldn’t  _ last.  _ Everything Louis changed, nothing was set in stone and he was trying so fucking hard to let go. He couldn’t hold on any longer, the rope burns skidding across his palms burning as he struggled to grasp onto and hold onto the ship that had already sailed. Louis was here because he felt bad, had tried feeding him because of guilt for his actions,  _ not  _ because he was genuinely concerned. He was opening up for the sake of easing the tension, telling stories of nonsense to soften Harry up only to run off and try to kill himself again.

Shuffling back when Louis took a step closer to him to glance once again at the mountain of papers, Harry cleared his throat and fought hard to hide the look on his face, fleeting yet it still was there, awe painting his tired face as he gazed down at Louis who was, in turn, admiring his work he knew nothing about. He didn’t know what all the angles and numbers on the paper meant, didn’t know the thoughts behind the mindless scribbles, yet he was still as intrigued as Harry.

“It’s nothing,” Harry mumbled, brushing it off as he scrubbed at the back of his neck. He took compliments quite well, didn’t mind gloating or talking himself up, but it felt different now. Louis knew parts of him nobody else did, seen parts of him once hidden from every eye. He was naked in the places it counted, undressed with a simple glance and Louis’ compliments meant more than any other he’s ever gotten-- even if he wouldn’t admit that.

“Just a few scribbles. Gibberish, really.” he nodded at his words, lie believable considering his lack of sleep lately. He was unsure of what to say, what to do, left standing on his tiptoes awaiting the next move from Louis to center his brief lapse in thoughts, telling him touching Louis was an incredibly brilliant idea even if part of his brain, the side spewing common sense, was telling him otherwise.  

“They’re far from scribbles or gibberish, if you ask me.”

When he looked back at Harry, he couldn’t hold his intense stare for more than a few seconds. As his gaze fell, he caught sight of the man’s stomach. Or lack thereof. 

He looked at his tray once again. “I know I’m a terrible cook, but I tasted those myself, and they’re okay,” he said, clasping one arm with the other uncomfortably. “So could you try to eat, at least to honor my efforts?”

Louis was definitely off his kilter. He hadn't even used a threat. See, kitten can play  _ nice _ too.

“Here, I'll even taste some right in front of you so you know I haven't poisoned any of it.”

Rocking back on his heels, Harry eyed the tray for a second before he shook his head, nose slightly wrinkled. “I have no idea what you intended to cook, but I can tell you it wasn’t supposed to look like that.”

He wasn’t being rude, or making jabs at Louis’ cooking skills to intentionally hurt him. He was teasing, trying to make light of the absolutely disgusting attempt Louis made at cooking a meal and Harry would be lying if he said he could salvage some of the lumps of grey food littering the plate. It was a surprise Louis had managed to stomach what he had taste tested.

“Why don’t we go out and eat?” he suddenly suggested, spur of the moment thing as his large hands moved to clasp in front of his stomach, hiding the sharp angles pulling his shirt taut where hip bones sat. “Neither of us have went out of the house for a good while, and eating something other than…” he paused to look at the tray, grimacing as he said in a horrified voice tinged with disgust, “that,” 

“Seems like the best option we have, considering our lack of food.” Harry has been lagging as of recently, and the cupboards in his home were looking rather scarce. His missing motivation to do anything productive could be the biggest villain in this scenario, but it was much easier to blame it on work and attempting to get caught up. “We- you don’t have to come. I can go alone. I just thought you’d want some fresh air.”

He shrugged, arms falling to rest limply at his sides. He didn’t realize how hopeful he was to actually go out in public with Louis, but now that he could hear his own words playing on repeat in his head, he was cringing and on the verge of backtracking, hoping to save himself some embarrassment. 

“It was a stupid idea, nevermind.”

“No, let's go,” Louis decided after a moment of contemplation.

“I've been feeling a bit of cabin fever brewing anyway,” he offered meekly. “Where do you have in mind? Either way, I'm about to dress to the tens. I've been housebound for days and this beast is ready to take on the city.”

And that he did. Dressed to the tens and then some. Although the hype he built had maybe died down, sitting in the passenger seat of Harry's car. It was just as uncomfortable and awkward as he could've expected. He chose to spend the ride staring out his window and humming a repetitive tune. And wondering if just maybe this was a terrible idea. If this was what the rest of their night was going to be like… 

“Maybe we should go back? Get some takeout and call it a night?”

Harry turned out of an intersection and into their diner of choice just as he finished his sheepish question. Louis huffed, getting out of the car and followed Harry in. Having stayed cooped up for what must have been (duration of being cooped up), walking into a crowded space had bouts of anxiety swallowing Louis whole. His ears twitched nervously and he grabbed ahold of Harry’s hand before he could think into it much.

Wide eyes flickered around anxiously until he was led to a booth in a secluded corner. The kitten boy had practically folded into his mate.

Despite the ridiculous flare of anxiety budding in his chest, Harry followed through with his plans and got dressed. It was ridiculous, to look like these two did while dining in such a small, family friendly diner where sweatpants would be acceptable, but something still felt right in his tight dress pants and buttoned up shirt, something he couldn’t quite pin as fingers subconsciously curled tighter around Louis’ thin ones. 

Something that made him forget past events and mistakes, and just enjoy the moment for what it was. Suck up all he could and just  _ enjoy _ Louis before the kitten remembered he didn’t want him.

He felt right for the moment, whole almost as teeth became visible in a rare grin, craters digging holes into his cheeks as lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. A vision of absolute haggardness, sleep deprived and lack of food visible, yet somehow his eyes still shined enough to save his entire appearance; or so that’s how it seemed when dopey kitten eyes found his and the twitching instantly ceased, calming both bouts of anxiety with simple glances. 

“Calm down, love,” Harry found himself whispering before even registering the words coming out of his mouth, the pet name he’s refrained from calling anyone, Louis especially. His arm moved to wrap around the kittens back, fingers hooking around his hip to haul him in closer, lining their bodies perfectly. “You’re fine. We’re  _ fine,”  _ a cruel lie, or a simple wish?

Louis’ eyes snapped to Harry at the term of endearment. His face translated one word:  _ what.  _ He smiled tightly at the man, arms folding around his stomach instinctively. It had become a habit as of late. It was admittedly quiet between the pair for about the first thirty minutes. Which was… weird. Even when they were at odds, there was at least the bickering. Right now, neither men knew where they stood. After the fight, the unresolved tension, then the kind gestures exchanged. 

“10:00,” Louis suddenly said, breaking the silence they’d settled into following failed attempts at small talk. “My ten o’clock, cute guy. I can’t tell if he’s ogling me or you.”

At Louis’ declaration, Harry’s eyes shot around the diner as paranoia rang in his ears before they landed on the small chap Louis was side eyeing. The blonde haired lad was throwing looks their way every few seconds, doing little to hide his ogling sessions even when he caught Harry staring. Jealousy surged through his limbs, sparking some life back into his lungs and he had to fight off the urge to surge forward and rip the stupid blokes head off because he was, in fact, staring at Louis. 

“Don’t look now, you fucking moron,” the boy seethed. “Jesus, do you know what subtle even means?”

“What the fuck do you mean don’t look?” Harry whisper shouted, fingers splayed on the table as he leaned forward and ripped his eyes off the kid long enough to lock them on Louis. “He’s staring at what’s mi-“ he cut off when he realized his mistake, throat clamping shut when he caught his mistake and remembered Louis could  _ never _ be his again, “he’s the one who’s eye fucking you from across the room. My fucking bad I was attempting to defend your honor.” Rubbish. He was talking absolute fucking rubbish to sooth the burn of jealousy. 

Louis’ eyebrows shot up his face in amusement, near animatedly at the almost-declaration. “Defending my honor?” The boy scoffed, chuckling a little into his hand. “What is this, the eighteenth century?”

“Square up, buttercup. He can ogle me all he wants. The question here is, is he going to advance,” Louis posed dramatically. “And which of us will he approach. If I score, I want a triple scoop of Ben and Jerry’s. If you score… I don’t know, I’ll stop using your wallpaper as my scratching post.”

Louis would voluntarily have an aneurism before he admitted it, but seeing the feral, possessive look on his mate was bading an inevitable spout of arousal in him. It slashed at his high defenses, suddenly tempting him to poke the bear. The bear being his barbaric mate in this analogy.

Rather than giving into the cruel thing that jealousy was, Harry leaned back in his seat and just listened to Louis speak, deciding he’d play into his little game but if the kid so much as tried to…  _ score  _ with Louis, he’d be dead. “You have an absolutely ridiculous idea of what a prize is. No. If I agree to this, then you’ll have to agree to another date with me. A real date. Not this,” he waved at the run down diner, nodding subtly towards the ripped chair cushions, “Shit, but a real restaurant. Deal?”

“Ooh, a date with Harry Styles,” the boy said blandly. “Lucky me. Alright then. Let’s shake on it. I’m extending my clause to a lifetime supply of BJ’s since you threw in that condition.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, making it so his body was angled towards the kid but his eyes were still locked on Louis, and if he was being honest to just himself, he wouldn’t mind never having to look away. “I’d drop to my knees anytime you want,” Harry said sarcastically, “and you should know, I don’t get my knees dirty for just anyone.” He smirked, completely ignoring the sane part of his brain telling him this light flirting was still a  _ very bad idea. _

“Jesus, mind out of the gutter Styles. You need to get laid. Let’s see if Blake over there tries to get lucky.” 

“Blake?”

“He looks like a Blake. And don’t argue. I’m good at these things. Call it feline intuition,” Louis finished as his soda was replaced. “And last I remembered, you’re always the one in control. What’s this about getting on your knees?”

“Sucking you off means I’m still in control, Tomlinson. I can do whatever I please down on my knees, and you wouldn’t give a damn as long as your cock remains in my mouth,” he said, crude being the best way to be as he smirked. He wouldn’t mind if the roles were reversed for once and he was the one willingly dropping to his knees to please Louis, but even as that thought passed his stomach was clenching in an uncomfortable knot. With it came the realization that they’d never be the same, even if they moved on from their mistakes, there would always be that underlying fear and memory of what happened. 

“Now, if Blake tries to get lucky, I’m afraid his pants are the only ones that will be soiled with dirt.”

Louis’ pupils were suddenly dilating. He swallowed thickly and tore his gaze away from the other man to pick at his food. “Well that escalated quickly. Finish your food, dickbrain.”

Louis bit his lip, warily eyeing the bulge under his side of the table. It would be mortifying if Harry noticed- if anyone noticed.

Harry was getting to Louis with just a few comments, bending that wall built of hatred and with a satisfied smirk, he gave in with little persuasion and jabbed a fry with his fork before he popped it into his mouth. “Tell me, Louis,” Harry began, voice dropping to a low purr as his raspiness levels kicked themselves up a few notches, “what would you  _ actually _ do if Blake over there tried to score with you?” 

Louis looked at Harry amused. He was handing over the dice, and Louis was going to take the bait. Give back just as hard. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we’ll find ourselves a nice bathroom stall for a quicky, then he’d take me back to his place for the real deal. Y’know it’s been way too long since I’ve looked at a dick outside porn.”

And with one sentence, the entire building was crumbling down. Laughing to attempt and hide the fact that he wasn’t fazed when really he could feel his blood literally boiling, Harry looked down at his folded hands. Check and mate. “I’m betting you couldn’t even get it up for him.” He snarled back, amusing himself with just the image of a limp dick Louis trying to have sex with someone who wasn’t Harry. Talk about an inflated ego.

“You may see a dick, alright, but would it do anything to tickle your fancy?” 

“Where I’m at now, I could get it up for a sex doll, honey. Considering how long it’s been, I’m going to give the opportunity its due appreciation and Haz, I’m going to kiss that boy’s dick silly. And  _ then _ get down to business.” Louis wasn’t entirely sure what he hoped to accomplish with this. All he knew was how alive he felt at the flares of jealousy and possessiveness he’d managed out of his biological mate.

The fact of the matter was, no matter how much Louis talked himself up or what he said, Harry still had that itch beneath his skin that easily removed any and all truth from the kittens words. It was like a aloe vera rub being applied over a sunburn, easing the burn but not taking away the ultimate source of pain. Which, in this case, happened to be Harry’s refusal to accept that Louis was denying him what was rightfully his. Which also happened to be  _ Louis.  _

“Are you kissing dicks or fucking him senseless? Because you have three seconds to decide before lover boy is knocking on your back door.” Harry was grinning as he watched Blake stand and with his confidence oozing out of his pimply pores, the blondie began his march over towards them. 

“He’s going to be doing the senseless fucking, dipshit. Do I  _ look _ like a top to you?” He whisper shouted before plastering on a charming smile to greet the blonde from a distance.

“Did you just completely forget the fact that you can ride him? Or is your sex life so bland right now you can’t handle the responsibility that comes with actually fucking someone?” Cue the eye roll. 

“Still better than your sex life, limp dick. Unless you’ve failed to notice, bonds are a concept. So I happen to know just how sex deprived little Harry has been.”

How easily he manages to strike a nerve is astounding. “And why is that?” Harry snapped, voice bordering growling as heated eyes found Louis. “Do I apologize for refusing to have sex because I can’t stomach the thought of it, or because you can feel how sex deprived I am and you’re the only one doing anything to ease that constant annoyance called hornyness? Because either way, I’m still on the losing end of the stick, aren’t I?”

Louis felt himself beginning to go into a panic at the rapidly escalating conversation. This was another one of those annoying feats he was left to deal with after everything that’s happened in the past months. He slapped on a scowl to mask his raising anxiety.

“Calm the fuck down. This is a friendly conversation,” Louis gritted, biting his lip when his claws sunk into his thighs.

“Hey,” a foreign voice broke the tension, and ‘Blake’ pulled a chair from the next table to join the couple. 

The American accent was an automatic turn off, as was the hook shape the blondes nose has adopted that was now much more noticeable that he was up close. Sucking in his quickly growing anger over a subject neither had control over, Harry flashed a fake but dazzling smile, intending to follow through with it if only to win this dumb bet. 

“Hello,” he offered in acknowledgment, though he kept his eyes focused on Louis, watching the smallest male squirm as his eyes darted around.

“My name’s Judias, and I was just wondering… You guys seem open-minded, and uh, you’re young and all, so maybe… What I’m trying to say is- or ask, yeah, it’s definitely a question. A proposition, if you will,” he paused to chuckle and scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

At any other time, Louis would’ve found the boy adorable, but right now, with the mood killed, he wanted nothing more than to be back home, snug in his nest. So a glaring part of him wanted to shake the boy violently to get whatever he was saying out of him. He watched his clasped hands disinterestedly and took a sip of his water.

“Shouldn’t have wasted all that confidence on the walk, Judias,” Harry said with an annoyed eye roll as he eyed the shorter male. “Spit it out, will you? I haven’t got all day and your chances are dwindling lower and lower with every word you utter out of your garlic scented death trap.” So he was in a pissy mood, sue him. He wanted to go home and cocoon himself in his fluffy blankets and just forget the world for a little bit. 

“Would you be interested in a threesome?” he rushed the question out, and the trio fell into stock silence before Louis laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you,” he assured the younger boy. He couldn’t stop, however, looking over at his mate to see a smile tugging at his lips. This was a tie then. Louis sobered up eventually and regarded the boy.

“I’m sorry, Blake. We’re not a couple,” Louis explained and smiled tightly at him.

“I don’t suppose either of you would like to-”

“No.”

“ _ We’re not a couple,”  _ the same fucking truth that would one day split the world in two and all Harry knows, will get swallowed by a darkness where the endless void isn’t quite reached by the twinkling stars. It shouldn’t hurt, he shouldn’t feel that sharp jab in his chest as he struggles to inhale at Louis’ admittance, all traces of humor he had felt seconds prior diminishing into nothing. He’s accepted this, them. Louis would be gone the moment the kitten was born, and Harry would be left to his own devices once more, but what exactly did he have left for him outside this bond— this relationship that was apparently lacking everything vital to stay afloat? 

He was nothing now, Louis had been sufficient in taking everything he was and  _ ruining  _ him without intending to. 

And suddenly, Harry felt this surge in his body that was pushing him towards the point of not caring, giving him that final nudge over the invisible line and he really just felt like being an asshole. “What are you, Blake? A one pump chump? If I pull your cock out right now are you going to come undone from the simple touch like an out of control, hormone ridden thirteen year old?” Harry side eyed his mate from across the table and fought back his sneer, disgust and hatefulness unfurling in his stomach with a nasty vengeance. 

“Leave, now. Before I do just that but throw a knife into the equation and cut off said cock.” He offered a toothy grin that was poorly lacking in any real emotion, voidless eyes blank of anything staring straight at the hooked nose little boy. His hand curled around the sharp tipped knife laid next to his plate, the handle a welcoming chill. “Hurry.”

“Okay,  _ that  _ was uncalled for.”

Louis was irritated at the routinely hot and cold way of running his mate was accustomed to. But for the sake of salvaging their night, he wanted to bite his tongue and lighten up the mood.

“Well, since it seems we’ve both won, you owe me Ben and Jerry’s, and I’m going to go on that date with you. What have you got in mind? Are you going to wine and dine me Mr. Styles?”

There again, was that familiar tug at his resolve, the notion that  _ one day _ he was going to figure this man out, and all the hurt in between would have been worth it. But he couldn't hope to have that goal anymore. Another being was going to depend on him.

“Well, Styles? I understand that you have trouble comprehending basic human interactions, but glaring doesn't exactly cut it as an answer.”

It was in that moment, with the strange man still sitting at their table, either too afraid to move or simply waiting with false hope, that Harry realized Louis was as hopeless as he was. They were both chasing a love already ruined, already stamped with that big rubber stamp, destined to fail if ever rekindled again. It was neithers fault, nothing could have prevented this, but he was thankful, in an odd, cruel way. Thankful for the eternity he got, wrapped up in seconds, infinite memories staining his brain and heart. 

He wanted Louis, but couldn’t have him if he hoped to give him any sort of stable future. 

Yet, “Guess you’ll have to show up to see,” he mumbled, a rare, secretive yet boyish smile curling his lips. Glaring forgotten, mood completely switched with a few simple words, he dropped the knife and focused on Louis. Ignoring his wildly thumping heart, seizing at the thought of an actual date with his frustrating mate. 

“Well, Tomlinson, while I understand  _ you _ lack all  common knowledge , I assumed you’d be smart enough to know I can’t change my facial expressions. I have one setting, a poker face if you will.”  _ Not with you,  _ was an added thought, already lost to the sea in his mind to have a chance to dance across his lips.  _ You saw the real me.  _

_ And he ran.  _

Louis cocked his eyebrow at Harry's last declaration and smiled small to himself at the thought of all the different faces of Harry Styles that he has in fact, had the  _ privilege _ of witnessing. The odd smile or two spersed between their timeline of fights and banter, the look on Harry's face when he comes undone around Louis. He's seen the anger, the small bouts of happiness, the amusement and mischief. He wondered briefly if he was the one person who knew Harry as well as he did. The boy swallowed thickly. 

“Can we leave?”

His voice came out a lot quieter, but he knew Harry heard him because he was shooting out of his chair all-too-eager to be done with this hot mess of an outing. Louis followed him out but stopped in front of Harry's SUV. 

“Don't want to go ho- to your apartment just yet. Can we go to the park?” he asked uncharacteristically timid. “There's a food truck right as you turn into the lakeside that have the best donuts you'll ever taste. And I think that's what the baby's craving? But with a LOT of salt, Harry, I feel like I'll explode if I don't have the saltiest donuts  _ right _ . now. Please,” he whined when the man hadn't said anything as he rambled on.

Wanting to just escape, Harry took the out Louis offered him and quickly stood from his chair without offering the small chap with the biggest balls he’s ever seen, because obviously you had to have pretty big balls to approach someone that looks like Harry, another glance and held a hand out to Louis. It wasn’t taken, nor was it even acknowledge but his pride was quickly sucked back up and the small wound was hidden with a quirky smile.

“Talks about food as we are leaving an eating establishment,” Harry chirped with an uncharacteristic peppiness in his voice, which was leaking into his walk. He was overly confident at the moment, Louis not leaving with the boy they left back in the diner stroking his ego in ways that has his grin stretching a tiny bit further with every step they took together, away from blondie and towards their home. 

A place they shared.

With wobbly lips filling his vision and watery blue eyes round and begging, Harry rolled his eyes and gave in with a sigh, admitting defeat when he’d never really intended on denying Louis what he wanted. “Parks and donuts it is,” he mumbled as he opened the passenger door for Louis. “As long as we still get our BJ tonight.”

He’d clearly taken the BJ thing out of context, and was just fucking with Louis to see if he could poke his most sensitive parts and rile him up, but he didn’t mean anything by the jokes.

That last remark got Harry an elbow to the gut from the very boy that had been pleading with him, not two seconds ago.

His mate was clearly a bipolar hot mess, Louis mused to himself, although a smile found its way teasing his cheeks at the unusual sight of a peppy Harry. 

“Get too cocky and you won't have the instrument for that kind of pleasure,” Louis threatened half-heartedly, patting Harry's cheek when he'd gotten into the passenger seat. He folded his legs under himself and shifted his body weight onto the door. He sighed lightly as he struggled to find a comfortable position, before he eventually gave up trying.

“I thought this was all just sore muscles before. Knowing I'm pregnant somehow makes it all the more uncomfortable,” he ranted quietly and turned the volume up on the radio. 

“I  _ want, _ some fucking donuts Harry,” the boy raged a second later when he looked over to find the man staring at him in amusement- not driving. 

Rather than placing the car in drive, Harry curled his fingers around the steering wheel and watched, amused, as Louis struggled to get comfortable but even as his bony ass sunk into the plush leather of the seat, he still seemed displeased. Where as Harry, with long legs awkwardly curled to make do with the small space he had even after moving his seat back as far as he could, was relaxed back in his seat, unfazed even as he felt a Charlie horse tensing his leg muscles. 

“I would never dream of getting cocky,” Harry replied with a smooth purr, lips twitching as he fought off a smile. “Want, want, want. Always making demands but doing nothing to help fulfill them. Needy now, Mr. Tomlinson, aren’t we? Perhaps if you ask for something nicely, you will get it.” He pursed his lips in a fake pout in a mimicking matter before he let out a chuckle and  _ finally _ backed out of their driving spot. 

His chest rumbled with the sound, so rare yet so heart warming and it was shocking, but in a way he loved. Even with the elbow shaped red mark impring his stomach, he didn’t regret a thing. For the moment, at least. Still lost in the oblivious to allow memories to ruin anything. “You shall get your donuts soon, princess.”

Louis bit his lip and blocked out his mate's annoying (yet calming– as much as he may deny it) voice out. He had bigger concerns. Like the fire he was feeling at the base of his abdomen. He pressed his fingers to the damp fabric on his inner thigh and let out an inaudible whine. This was probably one of the worst parts of this pregnancy. The insatiable needs that clawed at him every time his mate was this close. With a frustrated glance at the other man, he shifted his body towards the car door, moving as further away from his Dom as he could- as if the physical distance would change anything.

“Harry, m’ nan drives faster than this. If you're doing this on purpose, you're going to fucking regret it.“

The nagging was honestly only music to Harry’s ears after he’s spent the last few weeks in complete and utter silence. He’d rather be getting bitched at than shunned, the close proximity to his mate making up for anything said or done. “Hmm,” he hummed playfully, side eyeing Louis before his foot eased up on the gas pedal, “and how exactly will I regret it?” The car was now moving at a slow crawl, annoying to even him but the amusement he got in watching Louis’ face contort in anger was worth the honking horns behind him. 

He could feel it too, the burning in the pit of his stomach, the need to remove any and all distance between him and his mate, but it was easier ignored when he had something else to focus his mind on. Something that didn’t allow his thoughts to stray, to get lost in the memories of the kitten and drown him in the pity land that was his sex life, or lack thereof. 

“You're a cunt, my dear mate. And a shitty father apparently since you can't get my baby the donuts he's craving. You know what? Screw the donuts,” he muttered frustratedly and undid his seat belt, struggling over the console and fitting himself between Harry's long legs, a picture of agitation. “Pull over right the fuck now.“

That was the only warning he found pertinent to give his Dominant before rapidly tugging at his belt buckle and zipper. “I know you're feeling this too. I don't want you driving us into a tree when I effectively break your brain over this.“

One moment, he was being called a cunt and was preparing himself for the grinder Louis was bound to throw him through, then the next the kitten was crowding his space, pulling at his jeans while everything that consisted of Louis scream at Harry’s senses, pulling at the strings in his stomach in a way that was both delicious and horrifyingly painful. “No,” he breathed, grasping Louis’ wrist as he jerked the car to a hazardous stop on the side of the road. 

Everything was begging to give in, to allow Louis to attack him like he was, to finally get what the bond has been begging for for weeks but  _ no.  _ He  _ couldn’t. “ _ You- No. you’re going to use this against me. You’re going to continue playing me and I can’t  _ do it anymore,  _ Louis, I-I can’t.” And the plea for the kitten to move was unspoken but heard, heartbreaking and so painfully unlike Harry that his own eyes widened when the words reached his ears. Sex was supposed to be just sex, but between them, it was  _ never  _ just  _ that.  _

Louis’ startled deep eyes met Harry's and his mouth opened with no purpose. Slowly his hands sunk away and rested on the other man’s knees. He would've argued, would've pointed out that Harry wasn't the one being played. Wasn't the one who'd had his heart stomped on every time he'd given it to the other in an open-hearted yet unspoken declaration. Louis was. And each time he did, Harry had pushed him away. Miles away, breaking the boy's heart a little with every venom-laced word. He would've pointed that out, screamed it with an angry jab at Harry's own feelings to  _ show _ him how it felt. But it felt pointless now. The endless cycle of hurt, the unforgiving words, accusations. To what extent?

The kitten was tired. Resolve pretty much broken by now. Harry's masked accusation the last hit to take it down in crumbles. Tears flowed down his face freely with no attempt from Louis’ small hands to stop them. For the first time in months, he was hurting openly, letting go and conveying his feelings through their bond with nothing held back. As vulnerable as he'd ever been with his feelings an object for Harry to take apart and do with as he pleased. 

And there it was, the straw, or rather words, that finally broke the camel's back, that erased all walls and barriers between them. They crumbled effortlessly as Harry lifted a hand to Louis’ cheek, thumb brushing away the tears as if it would actually make a difference, as if he was doing something worthy. Everything Louis was feeling was washing over him, rooting a deep, different kind of pain in his bones that had the disgust in his stomach for himself twisting, growing with every pulse. He’d hurt him. 

They’d both hurt each other and where were they now? What did they have to prove for this besides a couple of ill spoken words and tattered hearts? 

“We can’t continue like this,” Harry whispered, words adopting a gentle tone he wasn’t aware he was capable of as his fingers moved to curl around Louis’ jaw, brushing the pulse point thumping wildly on his neck. His mossy orbs searched Louis’ icy blue ones, wishing with all his might even one small barrier would be put back up, hiding some of the kitten from him but it was futile. All was on display, all was being told and it took only a simple glance. 

“I’m sorry. I’m- fuck, Louis. I’m  _ sorry.” I never meant to hurt you _ , wasn’t voiced, but it was clear in the sharp ripples that passed through their bond.

Louis stared up at Harry with curious, glassy eyes and trembling lips. Without any further thought, he was climbing into the man's lap and burrowing into his chest. They were broken souls melding together.

_ Look at how broken we are.  _

_ Who's going to fix us? _


	15. We Don't Have to be Alone

As Louis sat resting against his mate's chest, strong arms wrapped around his frame, and his own slinked around Harry's mid waist, the silence was numbing. It accentuated the sound of Harry's heart beating against his. It was disconcerting, the mirrored pattern of their heart rates. Too real, too daunting in the truth it hinted. Louis took that as his cue and untangled himself from the embrace and climbed back into the passenger seat. Harry stared at him transfixed for moments that stretched on before letting out a deep breath and getting the car started. There were no further words between them for the rest of the night. When they got to the loft, they went their own ways until Louis paused in place and threw a cautious glance at Harry. Harry who happened to be staring back at him. With pained mossy eyes that seemed capable of physically pulling him closer if Harry really tried. They were caught in a moment too stubborn to let them free. To let them be on their way, as if they wanted that. Gradually, sheer will power broke its resolve and shut the doors in a loud clatter to a deafeningly silent hallway.

 

They left each other alone, allowed them to drown in the silence cocooned by a vibration that washed through their bond and melted their core with the knowledge that this, them, would be fine if they tried. It wasn’t out of reach any longer, even if the loneliness each have come accustomed to was still a slimy snake slithering across their skin, threatening to pull them away from the comfort they’d fallen into after the initial touch. 

 

Harry was left standing in the dark hallway, reality crumbling around him in slivered chunks that fell away with each labored breath he took. He could still feel Louis through the bond, could hear him fighting to calm his harsh breathing as he hid behind the door, wanting to move away and hide in his nest of blankets but too, also feeling the invisible ropes tethering them together, drawing them closer to one another even with walls and doors separating them. Drywall seemed like nothing now, it couldn’t lessen what was humming in Harry’s heart, couldn’t chip away at the budding hope blooming in his chest. 

 

He wasn’t sure what carried him to bed that night, the false promises that maybe he could have Louis back, or the ghost of arms wrapped around his waist, his own heartbeat echoing in his mind though it was much sweeter than the one thumping at his rib cage. Whatever the reason, he was able to unwind that night with little effort and fell asleep just as quickly as he’d set down on his bed. 

 

In his mind, Louis’ glossy eyes were calling to him, luring him into the trap of his heart and he knew, despite the promises the eyes were whispering, he’d only wind up hurt in the end. But it was worth it, or so his heart believed. It was worth all this pain, all this self hate, the loneliness and loss of appetite. He just wanted the normalcy back, the domesticity that had once consumed his life and was like acid being poured on his body. Everything he once despised, he now craved. Nothing sexual hiding in the cracks of his mind, in the desires of his heart. There was no secret outcomes, no ulterior motives, just the hope that;

 

Louis and Harry could be once more, could bring truth to that very statement and be all they could possibly be for their kitten. 

 

..

 

The morning greeted him gentler than previous ones, with him curled up in a ball on his mountain of pillows, his comforter a lump on the floor where he’d vaguely remembered pushing it to. He felt like he was suffocating in his sleep, pulled away from his mate while their bond was still trying to develop was taking a toll on his body and he knew if he didn’t fix this soon, if he didn’t help the kitten move on from the image of a savage Harry in his head, he wouldn’t survive through another heat alone. 

 

The only difference about this morning, however, with the chirping birds and restful nights sleep forgotten, was he was immediately aware something was wrong. His bond was pulling at the mental strings in his head, demanding he get up and see, rather than feel, what was going on. Like a puppet being controlled by its master, he moved with stiff movements and climbed out of his bed, still fully dressed, and stumbled his way down the dark, vacant hallway, his breathing the only thing to be heard ricocheting off the bare walls in his empty home. 

 

“Louis,” he croaked, knowing despite hoping the the kitten  _ wasn’t _ here, that his absence was what called for alarm. And to further prove what his heart already knew, he opened the kittens door and came face to face with an empty room, bed a mess of pillows and blankets with clothes littering the floor. The room was cold, freezing, and he wasn’t sure how much of that actually had to do with the temperature, and what had to do with the neediness the bond had awoken.

 

But then, just as quickly as the cold chilled his spine, racing down it like tiny pebble down a hill, anger was swirling around him and chasing away everything else, dominating him in a way he’d never hoped anger would. Last night he’d allowed himself to get comfortable with the idea of them, had believed they’d fixed it at least a little and now, with Louis gone, it was as if he’d done away with any and all progress they’d made since he hospital. 

 

They were back at square one, possibly even more behind square one, and Harry was absolutely livid. He called the kittens phone, the immediate response that registered in his mind, only for the chirping of his phone scaring Harry and making him jump back a startled step and stare at the device on the nightstand table as if it was the one to be accused, as if it was the phone who had done him wrong. 

 

“Louis fucking Tomlinson,” and it was with that growl that came this primal need to hunt and find, to track down his mate and make him  _ pay.  _

 

. 

 

Louis stared entranced by the bean-sized life form on the ultrasound screen. Silence seemed a frequenter as of late. This was a magical experience, but so,  _ so  _ incredibly terrifying. And Niall was with him the whole time, but for no fault of his own, rather for who he  _ wasn't _ , Louis found himself agitated about the company.

 

But not even that could take away from this crippling moment in time. Crippling in ways Louis couldn't describe if he tried. The blob on the screen was a  _ child. Growing inside him. _

 

Niall didn’t mean to intrude, to bare witness to the first time Louis came face to face with his child, even if it was simply a black and white photo, blotchy with blurry edges and the features hard to decipher from one another, but he couldn’t decline. He has some false sense of self blame for allowing Louis to even start this thing with Harry and this was his way of making it up to him. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t meant to be the one watching as silent tears rolled down his friends face, but he also couldn’t bring himself to call Harry, to tell him what he was missing because he was the one at fault. The one who’d done them all wrong and broke their trust. 

 

Yet, with a soft voice barely audible above the insistent beeps from the numerous machines littering the clinic, Niall leaned over from his spot in the chair at the head of Louis’ bed, angled towards the boy to help keep them at arm's length, and brushed a hand over his jean clad thigh. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Harry? He- shouldn’t he be here?” 

 

“No.”

 

It was wrong of Louis to keep this from the father of his child, but he had his reasons. And he wasn't swaying now. Not anymore. At the end of the day, it would all be for his child. 

 

He brought a hand to his stomach with a moment's hesitation and cradled it. It was now a visible pooch. The soft slow heartbeat of his fetus echoed in the room, sending waves of anxiety down his spine. Louis was shaking.

 

He could hear the doctor saying something and noticed distantly that Niall was replying for him.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, do you want me to print an extra for the daddy?”

 

“Um, no thanks.“

 

He folded his shirt back over his little pudge and climbed off the tall examination bed. The boy stared at the proffered ultrasound for a few hesitant seconds before taking it and thanking the doctor. 

 

Walking out of the clinic, Louis felt a little unsettled. The kitten was sweating bullets and his breaths were short and fast. It was like his senses were screaming potential danger. He looked around anxiously and Niall was instantly at his side. Something was about to happen.

 

Watching his mate's black SUV rolling into the parking lot with a fuming Harry at the steering wheel answered his doubts. He knew he had no real reason to be afraid of Harry, but in that moment, Louis felt immobilised in place. He felt like prey and was fighting the strong urge to run with every ounce of strength in him. 

 

It took little for Harry to reign in his self control and remember, despite how controlling it made him feel, he’d had a tracking chip installed on Louis credit card. It wasn’t a guaranteed bet the kitten would even take it, would bother spending the money Harry had worked hard for to give him, yet his phone pinged not even a second after he’d began to initial search. Now, it was cat and mouse. 

 

He was hoping the car ride would calm his nerves, would ease his growing anger and sooth the feeling of being scorned, but the ticking seconds only aggravated him further. The clinic was pulled up in his gps, and he didn’t have to be a Fucking genius to know why Louis was there. To know the hurt he felt was valid, and strong, and shouldn’t just be ignored because of the wrong he’d done. He was trying to make up for it. He shouldn’t be shut out and  _ ignored _ . Not after last night. Not after… 

 

Not after he promised himself he wasn’t running. 

 

“Freeze it, you little fucking Irish piece of shit. Get your hands off of him and retreat before I physically make you move,” were the first words Harry barked as he slammed the door to his still running vehicle closed. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, crinkled and disheveled with sleep rimming his pupils, anger quickly chasing that away, yet he looked absolutely livid, eyes pinned on Niall because he knew the moment they found Louis he would come uncorked. And he was  _ really  _ trying not to. 

 

“Don't talk to him like that,” the kitten snapped, putting a safe distance between them. The bravado he'd plastered on was a thin veil above the lingering fear stringing through him. When that brought Harry's attention to him, that fear only intensified. Still, “I'm not coming home with you if you're going to act barbaric. Get a fucking grip Harold.“

 

He took several steps back when his mate took one forward. It was embarrassing really, but his instincts were taking the wheel, and the genuine fury coming from Harry seemed to mark the checkboxes of a potential threat.

 

“Harry calm, down. I wasn't running or anything,” he deemed worthy of clarifying.”All my things are back at the apartment.”

 

“And that matters how?” Harry growled, losing the fight raging within himself, threatening to split his skin open at any second and Louis was right, he was acting barbaric, out of control even for his usual hot headed self, but he’s had enough. Years of bottling everything up, of taking the fall and the hits and he’s done. “You’re so fucking naive to how toxic you are in this relationship that you truly believe I’m the only one at fault.”

  
  


“That’s my child too, Louis. Regardless of the high horse you’re riding today, he is  _ mine too _ . I have a say so, I have the right to make decisions and I had a  _ right _ to be here today.” Then, to try and hide everything seeping between the cracks, wavering his hardening voice with every word, betraying him in every single way, he turned to Niall. “And you. You had so much to say about how  _ I  _ broke your trust, but what am I to take out of this? You took  _ my _ mate to his  _ first  _ ultrasound appointment knowing damn well I should have been here.”

 

And maybe he was too blind to see what he was trying so desperately to grasp, to hold onto, had already slipped between his fingers and dissolved in the stream. He could feel Louis’ fear, could practically feel as his own skin shivered with every word he spoke, yet he didn’t back down. The kitten stood his ground and Harry wasn’t sure if he was to admire the stubbornness, or take it as a sign that  _ he held no power _ . He wasn’t wanted nor welcomed— something he’s always had trouble comprehending. 

 

“No, Harry. You weren't supposed to be here. And I get to make that call after everything said and done. You're not going to be a part of our child's life. We've established that. So having you here, that would've meant tempting you with something you're  _ not going to have.  _ At least not with me. You can go back to fucking your whores and breed a child of your own, but I'm not bringing mine into  _ this _ .“ It was a step too far, too cold, too fucking heartless seeing how it was affecting his mate. Seeing the glassy eyes, and his thick, hardening voice.

 

But it was  _ true _ . 

 

He wasn't going to bring his child into the mess he and Harry have created. They deserved better than that. So he'd stand his ground, even if it meant losing himself, or hurting his Harry in the process.

 

“I can't let him come into this Harry,“ he said deflatedly. 

 

How long could one truly hold on when it has become so painstakingly clear that the sliver of hope he’s been clinging to for weeks, was now nothing more than a crumb easily crushed by a few words. The weight of reality was enough to have him stumble a step, to set him off balance and if not for the wall, he was sure he would have face planted it, skin getting kissed by the gravely sidewalk. That had to be a lot less painful than the words Louis were using to slash at his heart.    
  


Rather than spitting out his acidic words, freeing them from his mouth and saving him from the burns bubbling his throat, he swallowed back his discontent, sucked up his pride and glared at Niall before he looked at Louis and pointed a hand towards the car. “Three seconds. You have three seconds to get in the car before I cause a scene out here that not even you can come back from.” 

 

And he meant it. With every ounce of his being. He was having trouble keeping it all in now, but with all the prying eyes of passing strangers, he couldn’t say what he wanted. Couldn’t out Louis in front of all those people for the selfish kitten he truly was. 

 

Louis swallowed thickly, reigning his own emotions in and looking down. There was a pulsating fear wedged in the nape of his neck, but he believed that Harry would make good on his word if he didn't start moving  _ now.  _ He threw a glance at his best friend and made his way to the vehicle. 

 

The nerves didn't let up once, the entire, silent and foreboding trip home.

 

_ He's not going to hurt you _ , Louis kept telling himself even as the lock of the door echoed heavily in the silence of Harry's loft. 

 

“I'm sorry. But I meant what I said. I'm not bringing our child into this mess, Harry. And I  _ know _ you're not the only one at fault here. Don't you think I know that? But that's exactly the problem. This isn't healthy, and I don't know if we can ever change that. When I laid my heart out to you, all you ever did was push me away. And you were never kind about it. I can't keep putting myself through that. And one day, when my child's four and you snap again, throw some things around and tell me to leave,  _ again _ , that's going to be one more heart effectively tattered. One more being feeling tossed aside like they mean nothing. I won't let my child feel that way. I've felt that way all my life, and you better fucking believe that I'm going to make sure those are not the cards I'll afford my baby. And maybe I'm projecting, but I don't even know you enough to hope you'll treat our child any different, Harry. You've only showed me your worst sides. Even when we were ‘friends’ with benefits. The moment you were done with me, you pushed me away. Completely shut me out, went out of your way to make it clear I meant precisely nothing to you.”

 

“You truly believe I would do that? That after all these words, and all this effort, I would cast you aside like you were garbage? What do I have to do to prove to you I’m sticking around, Louis, I’m  _ here _ . I was a fucking idiot, I treated you like nothing because I was afraid of having something worthy of wanting. I was afraid of the life you could offer me.” He was startlingly calm, voice simmering into a low, smooth purr that barely had his lips moving and if it wasn’t shock, then it was defeat. He was giving into the idea of being cast aside in Louis’ world, of not being accepted in the child’s life and maybe it was better that way. To never know his father, to never know the sick man that goes by Harry Styles. The cookie cutter he’d been cut from denied him a chance to live a happy, domestic life, and that’s all he wanted for Louis. For their kitten.    
  
What if, one day, he did snap. What if he couldn’t control it and his kitten saw him lose control, unhinged, livid and fucking insane. How could he erase that feral beast from his child’s mind? Lie to them and say that wasn’t him, only a man who appeared to be him, who wore his face but didn’t have the same heart. How could he risk so much on a stupid fantasy?    
  
Was giving up his own happiness, his own chance at developing their bond beyond the limitations they set for it, truly worth it? He had his answer when his eyes caught sight of the black and white photo clutched in Louis’ hand, showing the blurry yet featureless face of their child. A knot swelled in his throat, constricting his airway and no matter how many times he swallowed, it wouldn’t dislodge. Wouldn’t free him of the burning tears swelling behind his eyes.    
  
And then Louis’ echoless words finally reached his ears, shining light on their dark past he’d forgotten about, ignored in hopes it didn’t exist. “Have I truly been that awful to you? That you think so lowly of me? That you believe you’ve always meant nothing to me?” The rise in volume in his voice wasn’t meant to spike fear in Louis’ heart, yet it did, and he realized a moment too late the damage had already been done. There was no saving….  _ This _

 

“You’re right. You know nothing about me, which is precisely the way you’ve wanted to keep it. I’ve tried for weeks to prove to you that I’m trying, that I’m putting forth the effort, but it is you who has shot me down. Maybe it was the…” And skirting around the word seemed far too unprogressive after everything they’d done, yet it still felt so wrong matching it to what happened, “incident that finally woke us up. Made us realize we weren’t compatible no matter how much either of us wish we were. I never meant to hurt you, or drag you down to the bottom of the barrel. I never… I never intended for any of this to happen.” 

 

_ I never meant to open my heart.  _

 

“You've been trying?“ Louis chuckled dryly. “If by trying, you mean shutting yourself away in a room for weeks straight and just assuming everything will work itself out, then great. You've been fucking trying. Congratulations,” the boy sneered jabbing a finger into Harry's chest with every point he made until he was backing the man into a wall. 

 

“If I come anywhere near you, you freak out! Either way, I’m the monster in your book. You’ve already cast my role, so why bother trying to defend myself now? You obviously don’t care enough to see what I’ve done.” The abandoned dinners, responseless conversations, one sided chats and empty rooms. He’s put forth the effort, tried talking to Louis, tried dragging him from his room but how was he to do that while also respecting the wish for space? 

 

“Then show me you're not the monster I'm making you out to be Harry,” he shouted splaying his hands on the man and pushing as hard as he could. “Show me some fucking love, you dick. Because the only thing that seems to stay burnt into my mind when I go to sleep at night is you taking me against my will. A savage beast out to satisfy your own carnal interests. You don't think that absolutely terrifies me? You don't think I want that to change?”

 

He was crying now, pushing Harry with all his might and shouting.

 

“I want you to hug me, Harry. I want to know at the end of the day that you can hold me and I won't be paralysed with fear with the things you could do to me if you so wanted. I want to know that you're capable of touching me and it won't end with myself being hurt.“

 

Hands blindly reached out to grab small shoulders, fingers curling in a possessive way, enough to add pressure but not to leave a mark. Louis’ emotions were hitting him in waves, drowning out everything else he felt until everything Louis was suffocating him; assuring there was nothing left in the world other than the pain and hopelessness the kitten felt. He was stitched together with fear, the loose string a tether to his past with Harry and he could feel it, knew one small word, one right move, and he could severe his connections to that night and  _ prove _ he wasn’t the monster Louis so desperately wanted him to be if it meant he saved himself from more heartbreak. “You won’t let me touch you!” He countered back, voice thick and full of too many things, only realizing now that this contact, his hands simply laid on either of Louis’ shoulders, was the most he’s touched the boy, the most he’s initiated since… before the incident. He’s been too afraid to touch, too afraid he’d hurt him again and he could hide behind the lie the the was respecting Louis’ wishes. 

 

The night before was a fluke. A lapse in judgement led by Louis. 

 

He held him still, fought to get him to calm down enough that they could stop— he just wanted him to stop hitting his chest and  _ look _ up. When he did, icy blue eyes, rimmed with red and screaming with so much raw pain, locked with his and he had a moment of hesitation, rethinking his words because reflecting back in the orbs he seen all the damage he’s caused. Irreparable damage that would never be fixed, no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries.

 

And at the sobbed plea, striking his heart with a pain he’d never felt before, he was pulling the kitten into his chest and allowing him to bury himself in the folds of Harry’s arms, finding comfort in the smell, becoming familiar with him once more. He was trying to erase all the images staining Louis’ mind, and while a simple hug would do nothing to erase any of them, it was a fucking good place to start. 

 

“I-I wouldn’t hurt  _ you,” _ Harry whispered, momentarily lost in the moment to really notice the vulnerable note his voice carried. He was open and raw, bleeding from attempting to bare all he was but he couldn’t. Words wouldn’t form. Promises wouldn’t fit together to form a single sentence and all he could do was pull him in tighter; pretend the simple hug was mending them both, sewing their hearts back together one stitch at a time. It wasn’t enough, and at the same time, it was too much. Their bond overridden with too many emotions the flow was clogged, denying them a chance to feel anything than utter content and  _ need. _

 

Louis breathed deeply when he sunk into the older man's chest. 

 

“What sucks the most is, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether or not you hurt me, because when it comes down to it, _I_ _love you anyway._ I loved you when you tried to fuck me out of your system that last day before I got back to Liam’s. Loved you still when you tried to cover my scent up with hybrids and humans alike, loved you always, every part of the way, and love you now. And I hate that, Harry.“

 

It was said in a whisper, but it was the loudest proclamation he'd ever made.

 

He pulled away and stared up at Harry. “Because you fucking infuriate me,” he spat, mouth finding the taller man's and biting down harshly. 

 

He didn’t hate the man, he hated what the man did to him and that he couldn’t change the emotions swirling around in his heart. It was a bitter sweet love, Harry knew because in ways, he felt it too. He knew what Louis had experienced. “I watched you run around with Dylan, trying to build a connection with him that we already had. You wanted to push me away, erase me from your life, so yes; I fucked anyone I could. But you  _ hurt _ me and nobody has ever had the privilege of doing that before,” 

 

The kittens talk with the other male at the hospital was still a fierce mantra pounding away at Harry’s skull, background noise in the otherwise Louis filled space. Harry wasn’t his first choice. Never was, and never will be. And if he had to accept that, had to accept that he wasn’t Louis’ happily ever after, just his good as it gets, then what did that mean for him? Was the kittens false sense of love enough to keep this afloat? Or was he trying for fucking nothing. 

 

The small distance between him and the wall were closed when he was suddenly pushed back, Louis attempting to dominate him as the kitten sunk his teeth into his lip but he noticed, happily, that the fangs were absent and the sharp tinge of blood never stained his tongue. It was a bite that had the muscles in his stomach tensing, pulling the desire out of the pools of his stomach that he’d ignored for weeks for Louis’ sake. For his own  _ sanity _ .

 

“Louis,” it was said in a groan, a poorly held in groan that rang with too many things, held a weight he wasn’t sure the kitten was ready for yet. He was  _ needy _ , but he wouldn’t do this. Louis wasn’t ready; 

 

Harry wasn’t  _ ready. _

 

A lie he was having trouble believing. A lie poorly concealing his fear of becoming that monster again. 

 

“Only because I was sick of feeling so used, Harry! You can't imagine the kind of pain I felt every time I smelt someone else's scent on you when I had already considered you _mine._ Harry, you're fucking **mine** ,” he gritted, planting his lips- and teeth on the man's collarbone. ”Were you blinded enough by your own defensive complexes to see how torn up I was after every time we had sex? Knowing that it meant so much more to me than it did to you? You _told_ me I meant nothing to you. Dylan was never it for me, but he made me feel like I _meant_ something.”

 

He felt Harry's hands sink into the flesh of his ass punishingly at the mention of the other man. It drew out a needy moan from the boy. “I fucking hate what you put me through. I wanted to hurt you just like you hurt me. Wanted to show you what it felt like. That suffocating feeling of watching you chatting up Barbara, smirking and flirting when all you ever gave me were blank stares and indifferent glances. All while using my body. But here's the thing, I  _ want _ you to use my body  _ now _ . Only, now after all that's been said and done, I'll know when you come undone that I'm not just sex to you. I mean something to you. That must terrify you, huh? After the extents you've gone to hide it,” Louis mused, undoing the buttons of his mate's shirt and trailing his open mouth down the expanse of his torso.

 

“Still want to hurt you. Want to see you cry the way I cried every time I had a moment alone. Maybe that's sick, but honey, I have only you to blame.” He was tweaking his Dominant partner’s nipple as he spoke, before taking a moment to soothe the area with his tongue. 

 

“Now that we've established how much of a cunt you are, let's get to more pressing matters,” he emphasised by pressing his hips forward so his bulge rubbed against Harry's. “If you don't make me feel like I'm yours right now, I'm going to go find someone else to.”

 

Harry didn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent enough sentence to defend himself, to clarify it was never just sex and despite what he’s said, what he’s done, it has always meant something to him. He opened himself up to a new world of vulnerability and allowed Louis the chance to see him, to  _ face him  _ while they fucked and while he knew that wasn’t a declaration of love, was hardly anything and was possibly easily passed off by the kitten, it meant more to him than some random spouting of the three words Louis has seemed to become fond of.    
  
He couldn’t write off his sins like they didn’t exist, like he hadn’t done everything he was being accused of because he’d done every small little deed Louis was calling him out for. All to hurt the kitten in ways he knew he’d never been hurt. Harry stole his virginity, stole his innocence and when he seen Dylan claiming what he’d unknowingly claimed as his own, something sparked inside of him that craved the chaos. That craved upsetting and  _ hurting _ Louis. It was a sick, twisted part of him that laid dormant now.    
  
That was putty beneath the kittens hands. Even with the name callings a harsh whisper against his sensitive skin, he allowed it all to happen. Name calling was Louis’ outlet, what gave him his high from the power and superiority and Harry would never silence him, never take that away from him. It was as much a part of him, of his identity, as the ears flicking against Harry’s chest from the angle the kittens head was at.

 

He knew the toxicity radiating off of Louis was bad to breath in, bad to give in to but the idea of him finding someone else after everything they’d just talked about, splayed out for all the see, triggered something inside of him and suddenly Louis was the one against the wall and it was Harry’s mouth at his neck. “Do you get off on the idea of hurting me?” Harry snapped as his teeth brushed the boys pulsepoint, tongue flicking it before he began his assault of littered bites down his neck. 

 

“Do you enjoy knowing a simple threat has power over me? Is that what this is all about? Do you want me to tear myself apart so you can pick and choose what you want to use against me next?” He wasn’t aware of the words he was speaking as he dropped to his knees is a harshly rushed movement and jerked at the kittens pants. “Clarifying that your  _ mine _ means nothing to you. Not even showing it. You want every small piece of me to know you have complete and utter control over  _ everything.” _

 

“You know what? I do enjoy that. Because for  _ so _ long, you made me feel like I  _ had _ no power. Like I was completely helpless in this relationship. I'd give you everything and at the end of the day, you'd fuck right off to someone of your choosing to get me out of your system. I'd committed myself to you alone. And you left me hanging out to dry, when you were the person to take my virginity in the first place. To have me craving sex like a lifeline every heat. You weren't there. I needed to find someone else. And you couldn't handle that, could you?” Louis arched forward when his dick sprung free from its clutches. 

 

Harry's rant was only words spoke to distract him from his own mind as he tugged down Louis’ pants and boxers, the need to amend things, to make things right before they took this any further damn near suffocating. The fear was still an underlying sweat coating this boy's skin, and Harry would be damned if he fucked him before he was comfortable. 

 

Louis was half hard, his dick leaking that sweet precum that immediately had saliva coating Harry’s mouth. But he wouldn’t allow himself to taste, not yet as he fisted the boys cock and began working his hand over it, making it grow to full length as his tongue licked over the inside of the kittens thighs, slow and precise. “You want to break me before you accept that I could ever truly be yours.” It wasn’t a question, either. 

 

“Truth is, Harold, I don't want to break you. Don't even want to hurt you as much as I want you to  _ love  _ me. And this is a shitty way to start, but it's something and I just–” thin lips found Harry's chapped pair and kissed gently. “I don't want to feel alone anymore.”

 

He paused looking up at his man with defeated eyes. 

 

“And you don't deserve to either.”

 

The crushing weight of the words were enough to finally break through the mental barriers Harry has worked years to put up, and in a moment of hesitation, he was left staring up at Louis in a new light, one where he could see all the boy was, no hidden messages or underlying feelings. He was a boy tired of being of alone, tired of not belonging and Harry had done everything in his power to crush him, when in reality, there was nothing to crush. He has long ago become blocked off to the world and never allowed himself to trust or grow close to anyone. 

 

Liam was the first one, but even then Harry wasn’t sure how much of that was for the sake of just not being alone. 

 

He’d abused his power, and now it was up to him to make it up. 

 

With gentle hands, he cupped Louis’ face and deepened the kiss, poured every ounce of him into it and he hated that he felt this way- so helpless and out of control simply because Louis was finally paying him the attention he’d craved. The bond sighed in content as Harry drug himself up off the floor and lifted Louis with ease, making the kitten wrap his thin legs around Harry’s waist. “I’m sorry,” it wasn’t an apology without meaning, it was weighed down with everything he’s ever done wrong and to further add that weight, he pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ forehead before his lips found the soft space between the kittens neck and shoulder. 

 

He bit down there, teeth barely even digging into the skin but it was to keep himself from saying anything, from outing himself any more. He sucked gently as a hand wedged between their bodies, careful as to not drop him, and once again began the slow assault on the boy’s hardened cock. He was going to make him come undone, time and time again, before he gave in and allowed himself the same kind of pleasure. 

 

Louis hissed and curled his body around Harry's with an extended mewl. “Want you, Haz,“ he whispered against Harry's ear lobe before nibbling at it lightly. He grinded up against Harry's palm, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut as he let out tiny gasps.

 

“Bedroom, please,” he keened, squirming against the wall when he felt Harry's warm breath at the bridge between his neck and chest.

 

Fevered kisses were littered across the blank canvas of the kittens body, filling the empty spaces with burning marks meant to stake claim. Panted breathes were ghosted over clammy skin, whispered admittances dying on their lips as their needs took over and filled the quiet space with broken moans and stifled groans. 

 

Harry had finally broken free from the trance long enough to regain his common sense and move his liquid legs long enough to make his stumbled entrance into his bedroom where he knew the scent would linger forever. It was still in his walls, even after he’d spent hours scrubbing them. Louis was everywhere, had seeped into everything and a part of him was dreading this. The fall out would come, was bound to happen, and he knew he was in for a world of hurt but nothing could stop him from giving the kitten, who was currently looking at him like he was the most amazing man in the world and not, in fact, his attacker, the world;  _ anything _ he asked for. 

 

Demands big or little, he was willing to fulfill them all. And for now, the request was simple enough. Would only put a damper on his heart for a moment before it stuttered back into the same offbeat rhythm. He needed this, if only to take some of the sting out of the loneliness that’s consumed him. 

 

The bed was quickly stripped, unnecessary items thrown to the floor and they made quick work of their clothing too. Anything and everything was irritating, too many layers keeping them apart when their very skin burned for just the smallest contact. He hadn’t realized how deprived he was until he was completely nude, hovering over Louis with inches separating their faces and nothing else. They were completely aligned, legs entangled in a twisted love story that made even the stars seem dim in comparison. 

 

“If I do this,” he said in pained whisper, trying so desperately to hold himself back, to not just give in and fuck the boy into the mattress like his body craved. He was taking this slow, offering Louis the chance to feel him, all of him, and not get that same sense of panic and fear that was lingering in the pit of his stomach. He was unsure. They both were. “There’s no going back. You- we can’t pretend we aren’t going to be parents, that we won’t have to exist in the others life even if you decide to leave me. We can’t pretend the bond is simply a lie stitching out hearts together. We just- no more  _ hiding. _ ”

 

Tears streamed down pristine pale cheeks as Louis tried to communicate his feelings– his love, hurt, through an abundance of kisses and touches with an urgency that put a newly wed to shame. His thigh rubbed against Harry's heavy dick, just as eager for release as the other man had been after weeks of denied pleasure that their biologies demanded. He crawled over Harry and leaned down to his ministrations before the bigger man flipped them over so he was hovering above Louis. The kitten boy bit his lip impatiently when his mate started speaking. His hands froze against Harry's chest when he voiced his part about  _ hiding _ . He looked at the man with a world of uncertainty.

 

“I'm scared,” he said in a hushed, transparent declaration. 

 

All he'd ever done was hide. And he knew that Harry was no better. This was no small request. The boy was absolutely terrified with all the what-ifs that came into question. 

 

“What happens when you're done with me? Will you love our child the same? What happens to the bond then?“

 

They were all valid questions, yet the future was unknown, indetectable and unpredictable. He didn’t know of, three years from now, he would feel as strongly and as fiercely for Louis as he did now. He didn’t know if they would last, if their bond was even as strong as they’ve been led to believe, but all he knew for certain now was what he felt. The thrumming of his heart wasn’t a lie, wasn’t easily passed off or hidden. The way his body reacted to the touches, chasing the contact, craving more even though every part of their body was already physically touching. He couldn’t fake the intense emotions he was feeding into their bond, and just hoped Louis would listen,  _ feel,  _ rather than psyching himself out with the, “what if’s.”

 

“All I can promise you,” Harry began as he pulled one of Louis’ legs up, bending it at the knee as his fingers drug up the smooth, hairless path of his inner thigh, leading towards his cock, “is that I will forever love our kitten, that despite the emotions I harbor for you, good or otherwise, I will never take it out on our child. And I promise to you that I’m here for you. In the now. And there isn’t any other place I want to be,” it was a dangerous admission that almost let his most sacred secret free, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. Would forever keep that to himself unless he was absolutely sure this, them, wasn’t just another one of Louis’ show. 

 

Louis arched upwards to kiss Harry fervently. “That's all I could ask for,” he spoke against the man's lips earnestly.

 

He propped the other leg in the same manner and crawled to his knees, a slow drag upwards that had every inch of his skin dragging along Louis’ before he was barricading Louis between his arms and holding his hostage in the moment. “Stop stressing over the future, forget the past, and just enjoy this moment. Enjoy  _ us,”  _ despite the close proximity, the way they’d been tangled together only moments before, he’d yet to touch the bump hiding between their bodies, yet to acknowledge the smooth skin stretched over a tiny being and he wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or instinct, but the fear was there. Yet his hand still found the thing he’d still get to fully accept, and with the initial contact came a surge that had him choking on a gasped breath. It was a silly reaction, such a stupid thing to do, but this was it for him. His first ever experience of feeling a child,  _ his  _ child, inside the kittens stomach. Inside his  _ mates  _ stomach. 

 

Despite Louis’ anxiety about the future, endless questions that were valid but couldn’t be answered until the time came, Harry was already certain he knew his answer. Louis was his shooting star; the brightest fucking thing that’s ever crossed his path and he was going to be damned if he let the fucker burn a hole through his hand and escape. He was here to  _ stay,  _ to love and be loved and have a life filled with mundane things. 

 

A life he’s never had.

 

Frozen in the here and now, there were endless possibilities, the worst of which Harry was extinguishing with every promising touch, every gentle word. In that moment, Louis felt the kind of hope you'd feel when a lover promises to love you forever. It didn't have to be said in words because Harry was communicating exactly that to him through their bond. Pouring his oaths into their stream of boundless love and hope.  _ Hope. _

 

The uncertainty seemed to dwindle as assurance washed over him. Louis knew he was ready. Ready for come what may in this unforeseeable journey that promised nothing but everything all the same. 

 

With a renewed certainty, he flipped their bodies over so he was on top of his mate. He spersed a litter of burning kisses on Harry's navel down to his thighs, and gently brushed a hand up the raised goose flesh on Harry's inner thigh. Up, up until he was fondling the man's much-neglected dick. Giving it the attention he knows it's been craving for weeks on end. One hand palmed his mate while the other sunk into his own heat, brushing past his puckered hole to open himself up for Harry. He gradually pushed one or two more fingers into himself all while keeping Harry on edge.

 

He shifted his body so he was straddling his mate, and just as he began moving his hips, he felt an unexpected bout of anxiety bubbling up his chest at what he was about to do. He recognized the panic on Harry's face at his hesitation, and saw him trying to pull away, but before he could, Louis held him in place and sunk down on his cock.

 

The kitten boy screwed his eyes shut tightly when he felt Harry's length enter him. He took the man up to his hilt and stayed momentarily stuck in place, trying to adjust before he started moving with urgent gasps.

 

It wasn’t a moment that could ever be described as perfect, with clumsy hands shaking with the residing fear and panic that refused to leave, refused to part from them until they felt, and seen, that the past was no longer valid, that its claws were slowly unsinking from their hearts with every whispered promise said with soft touches and lingering gazes.    
  
No, it wasn’t perfect in any way, at least not to those who wouldn’t know the story behind the touches. The sparks that sizzled along Harry’s skin as fingertips ghosted his skin. He felt suffocated being on bottom, but Louis thoroughly doused that flickering flame with just one small look. One look that scream trust despite the last time they’d been like this, the last time Harry had used and broke him in ways that would scar even the strongest of minds.   
  
But it seemed as if he’d underestimated Louis, the strongest fucking person he’d met.   
  
His back bowed off the mattress, chasing the kisses leaving blistering bubbles of pleasure, skirting down his body in swirling waves that had him struggling to focus on anything but  _ Louis.  _

  
His hooded eyes weren’t able to stay open long enough to watch as the boy stretched himself. He got glimpses, small peaks at his mouth hung agape and brows furrowed. He was drunk on the pleasure and Louis was riding that wave. “Sto-“ he’d began to say when he noticed the kittens sudden change, the way his entire body tensed above his and his own anxiety spiked, bringing with it a vengeance of fear and disgust and his own breed of panic.    
  
But like a row of perfectly stacked dominos, everything came tumbling down with one perfectly timed gasped breath.   
  
The sudden feeling of being complete and  _ whole  _ was utterly terrifying as Harry let out a gasped, startled cry, his back bowing off the mattress once more as his head dug into the pillows. He didn’t want to see, to speak, afraid his voice would drag Louis back to the land of the forbidden and dredge up those memories they’re both working to erase.    
  
They took and gave, Louis fucking himself on Harry’s cock before the older male grabbed his hips and fucked up into him, chasing the pleasure and hitting that bundle of nerves every single time that was like a fuse, every hit a spark sending him that much closer to the point of igniting and combusting into a blinding fit of lights.    
  
And maybe Harry lied;    
  
Maybe it  _ was  _ perfect. Just to his standard definition of that very word. 

 

The feeling of Harry's strong hands didn't bring the crippling fear the boy expected. Instead, it brought a feeling of completion. Louis threw his head back as he was maneuvered so Harry was on top of him, fucking him deeply, slowly but with intent. Broken moans spilled from the boy in songs as his hips moved in sync with his mate's. Their biologies hummed their satisfaction in the form of alleviating the tension in their strung up veins. 

 

His hands threaded through Harry's hair and curled around the soft tresses. Louis wanted to stay like this forever. Not a care in the world, no fear of the future, no regrets of the past, just the bliss of their present moment together in each other, melded together as one. 

 

Louis felt the muscles in the base of his abdomen tighten in warning and he opened his mouth to tell Harry he was close but the only noise he managed was a loud, undiluted moan ringing through the room in a depraved echo. And then, he was coming in warm ribbons, hips stuttering violently before his body fell limp against the sheets. 

 

It was only with that sound that Harry was absolutely certain this moment would forever redefine the word ‘perfect’ in his vocabulary. He wanted to hear Louis moan himself raw, watch as he comes undone again and again if only for the sick satisfaction he got at knowing that was  _ his _ . In every sense of the word, Louis belonged to him and would forever give up these treasured moments as long as Harry promises to never retreat into the shell of his former self and  _ tries _ to be the man the kitten needs. 

 

He was quick to follow, entire body tensing as the weeks of being deprived slithered out of his veins and left him bared, sinking him into a pit of unfiltered pleasure. Louis’ name was a cried moan sticking to his lips, letting free all he’s kept shuffled away and to himself. He was letting go, freeing himself of the ropes bounding him to his fuckboy lifestyle, the asshole persona who didn’t care and hurt who he could for his sick gratification. 

 

In a sense, this was his new beginning. This was who he was always meant to be, with sweat coating his skin and Louis’ semen splattered across his abdomen, his crunching stomach working to ride the boy through his orgasm. He was always meant to  _ make love _ with this sweet creature below him. 

 

And the realization was intoxicating as he  _ finally _ came undone. 

 

Wrapped up in his kitten, fucking into him with a softening cock. But even with all he was lacking, he’d never been so fucking full. 

 

So content with the fucked up life he’d been given. 

 

And it was then that he decided it, the moment a clarity that breathed some life back into his lungs. 

 

He knew nothing about anything, wasn’t even sure what he could fix with his wooden arms but he was adamant about one thing— a sureness that threaded with his very bones; 

 

He would fix them. 

 

He would fix  _ Louis.  _

  
  
  
  
  



	16. And that was that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy fucking birthday to my biggest idol, the man who taught me being yourself isn’t wrong, and that self love is always important. The man who effortlessly slays all our lives, and continues to do so with secrets unknown and giggles from glee as he practically humps the air during every concert. This is to the man who helped me feel comfortable with my sexuality, and shined some light on the darkened world that has enclosed the lgbtq. The man who takes pride in being different, and proving unique is beautiful. To Harry Styles, the legend I live and breath in a totally (not) unhealthy way. Thank you for existing, and giving us each our own opportunities to create our own small worlds filled with the love you and Louis Tomlinson share. 
> 
> Here’s to the big 25!!! 
> 
> And here’s to many more seconds all our minds create with that one simple glance you two shared. 
> 
> And to all of you readers, thank you for supporting us and giving us the chance to bring our versions of the boys to you. 
> 
> In honor of Harry Styles, here is the next chapter. 
> 
> Much love, Xx

Louis was stirred awake by the feeling of soft feathery hair tickling his face. It took a moment to adjust to the fact that strong arms were holding him in place, warmth enveloping him in every which way. A small smile tugged at his lips at the sight of Harry's face. With a moment's hesitation, he reached a hand out to move the man's long hair out of his face. It was hard not to chuckle at the scowl that brought on his mate's sleeping face. 

Louis twisted as much as Harry's hold let him so he was laying on his back. He sighed and stared up at the blank ceiling. His leg fidgeted impatiently for a few minutes until he couldn't handle the boredom of lying in place with nothing to do, so he kicked the man in his shin and smiled at the groan it pulled from him. 

“Wakey, wakey,” he said plainly. 

If not for the absolute childish thing his mate had just muttered, Harry wouldn’t have been aware of his hand curled around his– in child friendly terms, snaky. Saving himself from the utter embarrassment of uttering the matching sentence that would only shine light on his absolutely filthy dream, Harry squeezed just a tad bit tighter before he let go and rolled to the opposite side of the bed, where cold sheets stuck to his clammy skin.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, burying his face in the soft feathery pillows as he tugged the blanket up and over his still nude body. The birds were chirping outside the window and Harry decided if those cock suckers were just now getting up, then it was too fucking early. “Drop the crack pipe and go back to bed, Lou. I’m tired.” The last word came out in a drawn out whine, his long legs kicking beneath the blanket for a second before his entire body went lax and just melted into the mattress that reeked of sex and desperation.  

Last night was still a movie playing on repeat in his mind, a cinema worthy display that had his heart clenching in his chest at just the mere thought. Louis agreed to be his, agreed to give him a chance and he didn’t have to hide away anymore, didn’t have to throw away food that had set untouched on the table every single night. 

“Harry you get back here right the fuck now, I'm cold,” the kitten boy whined back, digging his cold toes into his mate's legs to prove his point and effectively annoying the man further.

On second thought, mornings alone, even ones where he was sleep deprived, didn’t seem too unappealing when he heard a loud whine from behind him, followed by the blanket being moved. 

Flinching at the ice cubed toes digging into his calves, Harry hissed and rolled over and away, ass hanging off the edge of the bed with the sheet pulled taut, the only thing saving him from completely rolling off. “How about you fuck off with your freezing feet and leave me be. Go get dressed or put your fucking feet in the damn toaster.” Anything to get him to leave him alone for just five minutes longer.

Louis rolled closer to Harry even as half his body hung off the bed. “Cuddle me, you ogre. I don't ask for much,” he growled, tail wrapping around the bigger man's torso. The kitten watched with amusement as the man got up to give him his infamous glare of doom, but the hasty movement made Harry topple over the side with a heavy thud. Louis waited a few moments with bated breath and puffed cheeks to keep from laughing before peeking over the side to find a frustrated mate. With a little further thought, he rolled over and fell into Harry.

Lack of appetite meant scarce eating habits which resulted in what little fat Harry had on his body, melting into nothing, leaving behind it muscles that bulged as he tensed and grunted at the sudden, and harsh, fall. His bony ass hit the floor, knocking all air out of his lungs and if that wasn’t enough to wish death would just consume his very being, then the kitten following suit would definitely justify his suicidal wishes. “Fuck,” he groaned, matted hair sliding across the floor as he let his head fall back and smack into the hardwood floor.

“Get off of me,” he grunted, though his body betrayed him and his limbs moved on their own accord, his long, dangly arms wrapping around the kittens back as his legs tangled with the much shorter ones. “Or at least brush your teeth. Your breath smells like cum,” and to give him the warm greeting he'd gotten this morning, generous enough to return the favor, though he subtracted the actual physical pain, Harry rolled them over so it was now Louis laying on the cold floor, pecked his cheek, and stood with a series of giggles and a mumbled threat that wasn't intelligible and would never be followed through with.

It amazed him, he noticed as he ran to the bathroom, how easily he’d fallen into the comfort of the kittens presence. Although it wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering even though the distance has separated them the past few weeks, he could still feel him. Always. Now, though, the feelings were accompanied by the actual physicality his body had been craving, and it steadied the thrumming in their bond.

“I’m showering first, and don’t even think about joining me,” Harry yelled over his shoulder as he finished his waddled run into the bathroom with slick feet and closed the door behind him, as if that would actually keep the kitten out.

Which, it didn’t. He’d just gotten in when he heard the door open, followed by the sound of bare feet sticking to the slightly damp tiles, giggles small, glee filled bubbles popping around his shampoo covered ears. And he couldn’t get mad at that, could he?

“When do you get back to work?“ Louis shouted over the buzz of the shower.

“I’ve never stopped working,” Harry yelled back before realizing how ridiculous it was. Opening the curtain, he gave Louis an eye roll and stepped back to give the kitten enough room to step in, a hand offered to help keep him steady. “I’ve been working from home,” he said, further answering the kittens question as he tipped his head back and rinsed out the sudsy shampoo. “I just email them my progress, and video chat them when email communication doesn’t suffice. But, to actually answer your question, I haven’t decided yet. My boss has given me some slack rope, allowing me to set my own pace so I can be here and offer you.. Er..” he cut off, unsure of what exactly he’d actually been offering the kitten, besides nightmares and bloody headaches.   
  


Louis looked a little taken aback at that. “You've been here the entire time… For me?“

He squirted an unnecessary amount of Harry's shower gel onto a washcloth and pressed it to Harry's chest. He looked up at the man for approval before sending it all over his torso, taking his sweet time with that. The washcloth, thinly veiling Louis’ hand, traveled downwards liberally until he was holding Harry's crotch suggestively. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Louis squeezed him there gently before continuing to have a innocent shower. 

He finished scrubbing himself off, rubbing back against Harry in what would seem like honest mistakes. He wrapped a towel around himself when he was done, accentuating the protruding girth of his stomach. Harry was staring at his little stomach. It made Louis wrap his arms around himself shyly as he went about getting dressed. After giving it a little thought he picked up his copy of the ultrasound and walked back to his mate. He grabbed ahold of Harry's hand and placed the sonogram in it and met Harry's eyes with a sheepish expression. “I'm sorry,” he intoned, eyes falling to the fetus on the picture. “You should have been there, and I had no right to keep it from you.”

They were innocent touches and lingering gazes, all trapped within the confines of the tiny water droplets rolling along Harry’s abs as he completely tensed, allowed the kitten to do as he pleased, allowed him to touch without the fear of being touched, of being manhandled. Then when the shower curtain was open and the steam went billowing out, Harry released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and quickly conditioned his hair, not giving it the full three minutes he usually did to let it sit, and rinsed it out before following Louis’ suit.

The white towel was loosely tied around his waist, doing its job of collecting the water he’d so carelessly allowed to drip from his body and got dressed in a pair of boxers and loose pajama pants, his actual clothing in his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what to say to Louis’ question, just allowing himself to mule over everything before he turned around and his eyes immediately centered on Louis’ stomach, like two magnets conjoining once they were close enough.

He was aware of the fetus, of its existence and where it was residing, had allowed himself to actually allow excitement to seep into his heart, but it had never truly dawned on him  _ how  _ far along the kitten was. Most parents had forty weeks to prepare for parenthood. They were thrust head first into an unplanned pregnancy and had less that twenty weeks to prepare for the infant, now even less than that with weeks spent wallowing in self pity. 

And they had absolutely  _ nothing _ for the baby.

“You needed the close proximity…. I just wanted to be here if you needed me.” Harry said, speaking lowly as his watery eyes focused on the photo being offered to him, answering the question from the shower. His fingers curled around the thick, smooth polaroid, black and white smudging into a blur beneath his fingers. His eyes were burning, an involuntary reaction that had his throat swelling, denying him the chance to speak without sounding weak. 

“I hurt you,” he said in a hushed voice, as if his own words were truth enough to dismiss Louis’ obvious flaw in including him in things. “You did— you  _ couldn’t  _ trust me. I understand that, and I’m not holding it against you. I- Just promise me I’ll be included in the next? And every single one after that?”

Louis regarded his mate with a world of regret. Yes he may have had his reasons, but seeing how much this meant to Harry made him feel like the biggest jackass for withholding the experience from him. Still, as much as Harry's request wouldn't need any further thought, Louis paused, cupping his stomach in a moment of contemplation, and looked back up. “Ye- okay, I promise.”

And that was that

“So… Breakfast?“

.

The rest of their day passed in an uncomfortable silence, as they struggled to navigate around the unclear lines of their situation. Both men were unaware of where they stood– what was okay, what was not. The one area of concern where they just slipped into sync, was ironically the baby. What needed getting done, where they were going to make the nursery, color schemes, the works. Granted, it was chaotic- both parents having different ideas backed with their own defensive personalities and bigger than life sized egos. But in all their arguments there wasn't the usual spite. No venom, no anger, just parents arguing with their child's best interest at heart.

“When do you get back to your physical workplace?“ he rephrased when they sat down for dinner. “There are a few things I need to get done, and I can't do it myself. Niall's going home for the short holidays, and Dylan is going to be held up with work. The others are busy with their own shit and I don't really want to ask.”

A sudden flare of jealousy at the mention to Dylan, Harry tried to ignore the sting from forgotten words whispered between his mate and the stupid bloke at the hospital, and instead poked at the salad on his plate. “Haven’t decided yet, probably not until after you have the baby. You shouldn’t be home alone, not with the pregnancy already being high risk. My company strictly follows the kitten hybrid rules, and that includes being sensitive to their mates and their needs. I won’t get fired, nor will I get replaced for simply missing a few weeks.” 

And jesus, that felt like the most he’s said without choking back tears or holding back his bouts of anger. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, about the fact that his mate had heard him yell more often than he’d heard him speak. They’ve never really had a normal conversation, their relationships always lacking in that compartment; in communication. Flicking eyes up to Louis, Harry shrugged. “I’m taking advantage of their willingness to bend a few rules. So you have me until you can’t stand me.”

“Great. So then you'll have no problem in joining me for parenting classes?“ Louis asked offhandedly, pouring Harry some wine and flashing his mate a sheepish smile when the man stopped him from pouring himself a glass. “Forgot,” he explained as he retrieved a soda can for himself.

“I scoped the apartment out, and we don't exactly have the room for a nursery.” Louis commented harmlessly, picking at the food on his plate and avoiding eye contact with his hot headed mate.

“So, what exactly does that mean? Have you also scoped out houses for sale?” Harry asked with a fond eye roll, not believing his own question was actually true as he sipped the wine Louis had poured him. 

Ignoring the comment about birthing classes because, no, he wouldn’t be attending those, Harry pushed his dinner plate away and eyed Louis when the boy remained oddly silent. He wasn’t attached to his apartment in any way, or at least not in any way that had good memories overcrowding the bad ones, but the look Louis gave him immediately had his defenses flying up. “No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We’re not moving.” Even if it was the most rational thing they could do. “Your room is small, I realize that, but we can turn that into the nursery. The infants going to be what? A foot long. It doesn’t need that much space, does it?”

The fact that he sounded like a daft idiot wasn’t intentional, either. 

Louis looked at Harry incredulously. “You sound like a bumbling idiot. A nursery needs more space than that! Where will the changing station go? And the crib? What about the dresser and rocking chair?“ the boy argued in a rage of hormones.

“And it's awfully presumptuous of you to to think I  _ want _ to bunk with you. Maybe I  _ want _ my room. Harry there are so many nice houses on the market, you haven't even considered it, come on,” he groaned. Louis couldn't fathom why Harry would want to continue staying here. Harry happens to be the least sentimental person he knows. Even so, what good memories could the man possibly have attached to this house? It only held an abundance of bad memories for Louis.

“We're moving, Harold.”

It was so tempting, in the given moment, to lay down an ultimatum the man couldn't argue with. Easily win the game with something along the lines of ‘My baby and I are moving whether you join us or not’.

But that's the kind of statement that keeps taking them back to square one. It was a shitty card to play, and it always blew up in his face. It occurred to Louis then, exactly how toxic  _ he's  _ been in this relationship. Throwing those threats at Harry left and right when the man was clearly going out of his comfort zone and  _ trying _ with him. It also occurred to Louis how much Harry cared, if these threats– his words, mattered so much to him.

The boy sighed deeply, frowning at himself. He could hear Harry yelling in the background saying something but Louis wasn't paying attention. He strode forward and hugged the man. The kind of hug where your arms are a strong barricade around your partner. A warm hug with promise. “I'm going to try and be better for you.”

He could sense the confusion Harry was experiencing. His hands hung in the air, and he remained stiffly in the shorter boy's embrace. The shift in the atmosphere was laughably stark.

“As if us sharing a room is the most ridiculous idea, right?” Harry snarked, proving the fact that he as a irascible man, easily nudged out of his comfort zone with a few words and moving definitely wasn’t within the walls he’s built for himself. Sure, his apartment was, in all its simplified glory, four walls with claw marks and tears holding together the wood. He’s done more here than he’s cared to remember,  _ lived _ here longer than he has anywhere else in his entire life and it was a comforting fact. Never having to worry, never having to suddenly uproot your life and leave. 

And a new beginning sounded tempting, an honest to god golden Apple dangled in front of his lips but with all the fantasy stories, tales from his childhood, pounding away at his skull he couldn’t help but wonder if the Apple was poisonous. Once he bit into it, would all die? Would the moment him and Louis officially got a place together, kill any and all connections they had? Or would their home be their saving grace, something that solidified their otherwise jelly foundation of their relationship.  Then there was the worry that Louis would leave, and Harry would be stuck with  _ their  _ home. The place they bought with the intentions of building a life, the walls weaved with late night giggles and early morning arguments. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t be left alone in a place where all his hope had been built, then killed, leaving him empty and thoroughly broken. More so than even his parents could have broke him.

But what finally hurt him, slashed at his bruised and tattered heart, was the hug that felt as if the kitten was suddenly realizing his responsibility of holding Harry together. He was gathering all the dull and bent pieces of Harry’s puzzle and, even if the picture wasn’t perfect nor visually appealing, he was pushing them together and holding him as if his very life depended on it. It was a hug that healed that deep, dark gash every soul had, but wasn’t aware of. It cocooned his entire body with a warmth, a fuzziness that hazed the edges of Harry’s vision. 

And to say he was confused by the admittance, would be an understatement. He didn’t know what brought it on, or what called for Louis to even do such a thing. But the most important thing he’d taken from this, from the ghost arms still holding him together with the invisible promise, was;

Louis was here, and Louis was trying. He’d agreed to do so, too. Both of them fighting against their natural instincts which was to lash out and run, to hide from something that had the potential to be  _ something.  _ “Fine,” he relented, a sigh that had his body deflating in the seat. “Well look, but we’re  _ not _ rushing into anything. We’re going to take our time, and find something we both like. Which, by the way, doesn’t even mean we’ll end up moving. Understood?”

Even if he was trying to claim authority, he knew he was fucked. There was no way Louis would let this go. 

Louis knew that this was the best he was getting out of his brick wall of a mate, so he took it, with a triumphant smile etching across his face. He shook his hands around Harry expectantly. 

“Your arms are supposed to go around me too. That's how a hug works.”

As much as Harry was the Dominant in this relationship, Louis had a page or two on control behind the scenes. And needless to say, they were moving.

“So parenting classes,” Louis reminded with a clap. ”You didn't respond to that, and I figured you'd have a lot to say about it. Now before we get into this, let me just tell you what's on the table if you agree to do this. Kinky sex. Lots and lots of it.”

He was going to play this off as something he's offering Harry, but in reality, Louis has wanted to be tied up and fucked for awhile now. He's wanted to be spanked, gagged and handcuffed to the bed while presenting himself to his Dominant to do with as he pleased.

But he wasn't going to let Harry know that just yet. At least not until the man agreed to parenting classes, because God knows they needed it.

“I know for a fact that you're a kinky fuck. You like control, and that's okay. You can have it as long as you give me this.”

Harry, despite the physicality of his past fucks, has never truly allowed himself to soften up enough to enjoy hugs, or cuddles, or anything physical beyond fucking. He’d been deprived for years, established the no touching claus and despite what he feels for Louis, or what he thinks he feels, things just won’t disappear that quickly. Years of being mentally fucked up won’t just be chipped away with a few cloudy fantasy’s of what his life can be. 

So his arms remained where they were, body tense despite the warmth radiating from him at Louis’ closeness, and zoned out as the boy talked. “If I agree to subject myself to hormonal pregnant kittens, and or humans, and their mates, I’ll get kinky sex?” 

Now that was a game changer, enough to break his stubbornness enough to allow himself to get hyped up on the idea of endless sex. Sex that wouldn’t make either afraid, wouldn’t trudge up old memories and it would give them new ones to hold on to, new memories to replace all the dark ones.

“Is that a yes, Styles?“

He really hoped the hard-headed man would give in about now, because his growing boner was becoming  _ harder _ to hide.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
